The Right 'Path'
by peachi padwan
Summary: Victor Creed has done some terrible things during his long and violent life, so when he needs to find respite from his raging memories, to whom can the animal turn? Victor/OC .Origins style. RATED M DUE TO GRATUITOUS SEX, VIOLENCE & VERY DARK CONTENT
1. The Perfect Perfume

_Okay people. This is my first attempt at an X-Men story, so please be gentle with me. It is a work in progress but won't be major long. This has been written without a beta, but I am working on finding someone soon._

I feel that I must warn you before you read. This story IS NOT FOR THE FAINT HEARTED. Right from chapter one there is strong foul language, racist remarks, images of rape, plus violence, gore and death. It will get progressively worse as the story developes and will be very dark and deep. If you are seeking a fluffy, loved up version of Victor Creed...find another story as you won't find him here. Anyways, this story is not rated Adult++ for nothing...believe me. So if you offend easily or do not like this sort of story then I suggest you click back a page as this is likely to cause offence to you.

My Victor is inspired by the wonderful Liev Schrieber's portrayal of the character in X-Men Origins; it was amazing and kinda inspired me to write this story. Also, there is no real time frame for this story, I didn't want to limit it so much by giving away a definite time span. Lets just say that it probably somewhere towards the beginning of Orgins, just after it all kicks off with Jimmy leaving the team. Okay, I'll say that at this point Victor is still with Strykers group killing, maiming etc etc, but as I said...nothing is concrete, you put it where you want to.

Anyhoo...if you're still here...then I pray, please enjoy and let me know what you think.

_* * * * *_

The Right Path

To Victor Creed, scents upon the air were as colours as on a canvas to humans. Just as one might be able to accurately describe a particular shade of blue, Victor could give a vivid and highly detailed description of the aroma of every type of scent. Like a fine perfume crafted during hours of intense blending, Victor knew which scents infused well and which ones did not. He knew which his favourites were and which he did not care for. He cared not for pointless and feminine fragrances such as apples, cinnamon, love and fresh cut grass. He could take or leave precious metals, indecision, burnt toast and wonder. These served no purpose to him, gave him no decipherable information other than annoyance. His years as a mercenary had honed his preferences down to a select few scents. He much preferred masculine fragrances; ones that hung heavy and tangible in the air, and the ones he could actually taste. Fear, hatred, flesh, supplication, blood, rage, sweat…death.

* * * * * *

The corridor was narrower than he'd remembered, or maybe he'd grown, he couldn't be sure. His immense frame seemed only centimetres away from the walls to his left and right. He filled the space, and rightly so. The hallway was much the same as the rest of the sorry building; lacklustre and trying to feign homely warmth, but struggling terribly to achieve it. Everything screamed feeble and pathetic to him, from the cheaply carpeted floor to the repulsive fake stained glass windows at the end of the long hall. The miserable excuse for wallpaper was cheap and banal. A disgusting cream colour with a hideously chintz blue coloured dado rail that ran the length of the wall, about four feet from the floor. The characterless warmth that the place radiated made him rage inside; he growled low and heavy in his chest. He hated the suburbs with a passion; cheap, nasty and infested with worthless ten-a-penny frails. He wondered how anyone could live in such a plain and mundane dwelling.

As his eyes scanned the cliché, Victor began playing scenarios out in his mind; his own version of 'redecorating'.

He imagined what the dull walls would look like splayed crimson with fresh blood; he pictured it oozing and seeping down in long fine lines. He imagined it pooling on the floor in black reservoirs; lumps of dripping brain matter and sharp little pieces of bone creating small islands. He envisaged bloodied limbs, ripped tongues, and if he was lucky, a young foetus littering the hallway and how he would have to step over them to get to his goal. He could perfectly picture long and sinewy abdominal muscles slithering knotted down the walls as he passed them with a glint in his eye. He decided that this would look much better than the current decoration; carnage suited his palate much more.

Victor flicked his head to the left and shook the image from his mind. Redecoration could come later if the fancy still pleased him. But right now he had something to take care of and he needed to concentrate for just a moment.

He tilted his head back ever so lightly, lifting his nose a fraction higher into the air. Sniffing the atmosphere around him as one might sniff a delicate bouquet of flowers, Victor inhaled all the varying aromas on offer for his delight. Crinkling his nose ever so slightly, he quickly weeded out the ones of no consequence; freesia, vanilla, blueberry muffins, crisp linen and young fresh washed children. They were nauseating.

_Pathetic. Typical of this type of lodgings_. He mused silently as he continued to breathe in deeply.

He inhaled once more, seeking out the aroma he was searching for, knowing that he would find it eventually. More sentimental scents bombarded his senses. Gummy sweets, soap, pansies, Chanel No 5, talcum powder and almonds all poured into his nose uninvited. The scents were sacrine sweet and overwhelmingly repulsive to him. He snorted roughly, expelling the gunk from nasal passages, concentrating just a little bit harder once he had finished.

Then, like a brick to the face, the smell hit him and engulfed him. Had he been of smaller and slighter stature he may have taken a step back from the force with which it hit him. But being the size he was, he simply allowed it to envelop him in rich luxurious swathes, drinking it in as if it were nectar. As soon as the unique scent caught in his nose, he fixed his grey gaze upon the source of the fragrance. A small, plain and unassuming cream door at the end of the hall fell under his steely stare. The scent coming from behind the door was utterly unmistakable. The perfect perfume; it was like it was his own personal blend, crafted from his favourite smells; he could pick it out above anything else. Victor inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with that intoxicating smell. The base notes of fear were heavy and slippery in the air. It was warm and musky, like freshly spilled blood and just as rich. It was arousing and crushing as it invaded Victor's lungs. It was this that he smelt first; the animal in him rooting it out from the rest of the bouquet. The middle notes of worry and anxiousness were just as pleasant, tinged with a woody and herbaceous scent that was undeniably thick and worn like old leather. And the top notes were a desperate and futile attempt to cover the previous two notes. Patchouli, violets and hope floated just above the other two, creating the perfect combination of fragrances.

The smell could only belong to one person.

_Her._

Victor could never be one hundred percent sure that it was this thought or the combination of smells that made it so irresistible to him.

The animal within him took immediate hold and shook him to his very core. He crouched ever so slightly, his talons extending subconsciously and he began to stalk toward the door silently. Despite his hatred of his current surroundings, Victor found that the sickening chintz actually worked in his favour. The hideous navy carpet beneath his heavy black army issue boots cushioned his footsteps to barely an audible whisper, not as if he needed it. With feline like fluidity, he moved slowly down the hallway, taking his time and savouring the growing scent of fear in the air. His muscles rolled beneath his taut skin, working and moving him closer to his aim. With every step he took, the smell intensified and grabbed at something deep within him. He growled low and dangerous, a panther's purr that hung in the back of his throat. Within a few deft strides, Victor had reached the door. He glared wrathfully at the inanimate object for a few seconds, contemplating kicking it in and sending thousands of tiny cream splinters flying in all directions. But that would take away the element of surprise, and surprise was just what he wanted, just what he needed; he depended upon it.

Victor raised his balled fist to rap a heavy knuckle on the door. Inches from connecting with the painted wood, Victor's ears pricked and he spun round with terrifying speed, his thick black coat flapped behind him. His grey eyes fell upon the diminutive figure of a young Japanese girl, her slender fingers clutching tightly at the edge of her half open door. Her almost black eyes were wide with shock and had glazed over with pure fright, her mouth open in a small 'O' of disbelief. Her straight black hair hung limp past her skinny shoulders and her sunshine yellow knee length tunic covered her undernourished frame. Rage flared instantly within Victor, his desire to rip her goddamn head off almost pushed him over the edge. His glare met her eyes and he felt as if he could have seared through flesh such was its intensity.

His brain instantly shot another scenario into his mind as he took in the sight of her slight form. How easy it would be to knock her down, almost pitiable, wretchedly so even. He imagined lunging at her and tearing into her cramped sparse little apartment to fuck her senseless. He would have no problem with forcing himself into her as cruelly as he could and making her cry and scream and beg and tear. She would bleed profusely and he would ensure that she would feel pain that she couldn't even begin to comprehend. He'd fuck her till he shattered her pretty little bones and perforated her unused womb with his cock. He pictured emptying himself inside her with a satisfied roar; then slashing wildly at her filled abdomen and bony chest with his own hands. He'd leave her to choke on her own blood and vomit, her raped body eventually bleeding out in thick pools onto her cheap and worn out lino floor.

Once again, a swift flick of his head to the left removed the image from his brain and brought him crashing back to reality.

"Get back in your fuckin' apartment and keep your fuckin' mouth shut." Victor snarled, his dark predatory eyes never leaving hers

The girl's lip quivered and her breath quickened with sheer terror.

"Unless you want me to slice you a new gash between your legs that'll run crossways just like those slittly little eyes of yours?" He leered at her, bearing his fangs ever so slightly. He watched the girl glare at his talons as he extended them with a menacing promise. Beads of tears formed on the inner rims of her eyes, balancing, teetering. A choked sob escaped the terrified girl's lips and she swiftly closed the door. Victor heard a click in the locking mechanism of the door, then the heavy clunk of a deadbolt lock; he smiled to himself.

_Atta' girl_, he mused.

Spinning back round, Victor resumed his attentions to the job in hand. He let his weighty knuckle rap three times on the cream door in front of him. He chuckled to himself as he heard a flurry of commotion behind the door. The steps were light but laboured; he heard bone connect with solid pine, followed by muffled cursing, but no foul words.

He rapped again, three times, for his own enjoyment.

"Alright alright, hold your horses…I'm comin'!" A voice threw in the general direction of the door.

Victor drew himself up, felt his abdominal muscles contract and tighten as he drew himself up to his full height. His spine popped once as he felt his erector muscles pull him in and up. He knew he was a scary motherfucker at the best of times, but he knew how to work his body in order to make his presence even more formidable. His all black attire lent him nothing but a feel of utter menace; he'd lost count of the amount of people he'd turned to wretched puddles with nothing more than this outfit. It almost dismayed him sometimes; people had a tendency to spill their guarded information before he even had the chance to have some real fun with them. Humans were so weak, but then again…so were some mutants.

Suddenly, the door flew open and an eddy of hurried words greeted him.

"Look…I know this isn't all of it but I can get you the rest by next Wed…" The cheerful voice stopped dead as a terrible realisation set in. A shower of twenty dollar bills dropped from her hand and fluttered to the floor. The colour from her face drained instantly and her mouth fell open in sheer terror; the gravity of the situation dawning on her immediately. Victor sensed a tremor shoot up her spine, ice cold and deadly.

He smiled. Those base notes of the perfect perfume were really showing their strength now.

"Hello frail." Victor purred.


	2. Soon

_BETA/S FOUND....DALLASFAN & FYREFLY TAKE A BOW!!!_

_Also, I know I'm not giving much away with the 'frail' but I promise to explain more in the next chapter. I am writing the third chapter now and it should be posted around the weekend as I am insanely busy this week, but my fingers are itching to write. I'll post it as soon as it humanly possible, so PLEASE stay with me on this one. Oh and as always, more foul language, sexual connotations etc etc…you've been warned again!_

_Thank you to all you amazing people that have reviewed chapter one, and to those that didn't, maybe this chapter will tempt you into tapping away on that lil' ol' keyboard of yours?_

_Enjoy._

The Right Path

Victor circled the frail slowly, with all the cold and deadly precision of a true predator. His grey and unfeeling eyes drifted over her with a dismissive and condescending glare. He knew the power was fully in his hands, so he felt no need to rush the situation. He preferred her just as she was now, held in a terrible and horrifying form of suspense. Despite the terror that was coursing through her body, she was still doing all she could to stand tall, desperate to hide her fear.

_Stupid damn fail._ He ruminated, letting a crude leer spread across his lips.

That perfect perfume that had seeped under the door and out into the hallway only moments ago was now a thousand times stronger than he ever thought possible. It rolled off her in swathes, increasing in its potency with every passing minute. As the musky smell of unfettered fear seeped into his nose, Victor felt utterly intoxicated. If he could ever feel drunk, he imagined this is what it would feel like. The sense of power and strength that the smell gave him was exhilarating and unfathomably arousing. He knew there was no fragrance in this world that he preferred; fear had to be his most favourite…especially when it was coming from her. The _absolute_ perfume.

In complete silence he circle the quaking girl once more, relishing in the suffering he was inflicting upon her; his very presence was all the persecution he would need for now. Victor knew how to torture men, it was very simple and it was something he had honed right down to an absolute art. Men responded to physical pain very well, they usually spilled their information or consent within the first few minutes, or at the longest, within an hour. With men, Victor preferred to get his hands as dirty and as bloody as possible. He loved to pull fingernails out from the nail-bed slowly, watching as every strand and fibre struggled in vain to keep the dead skin anchored to the body. The screams that went with nail pulling ranked amongst his favourite sounds. He loved kneecapping; the melody of a shattering patella was music to his ears and the begging that accompanied it was even more harmonious. Limb removal was always a favourite too; he could keep a man alive for a very long time, even minus a major limb like a whole leg. A fully grown man crying and supplicating over a lost limb was quite a wonder to Victor, having never experienced it himself. Victor had realised years ago that he didn't need fancy equipment or torture devices to inflict pain, in fact they detracted from the pleasure or torture. He learned long ago that his entire body was a tool designed for just two purposes; to end lives and inflict the maximum amount of pain possible.

But women however, women were a very different thing altogether. In his experience women responded much better to psychological torture. Of course, he had no qualms with physical torture for women. He found rape to be the very best way to put a woman through sheer agony, and on the plus side, he got something most enjoyable from it too. It was his favourite way of making a woman suffer; most of the time this was torture enough as she was extremely unlikely to survive the experience, given his sexual proclivities. But women were easier to taunt, easier to break with psychological means. Sleep deprivation, exploitation of phobias, solitary confinement and sensory deprivation were all very successful means of torturing a woman, simply due to the wiring of their brains. Their bones and bodies were far easier to break, however the thrill of breaking their mind and spirit was utterly unrivalled in his eyes. But Victor knew that he wouldn't even have to break out the blindfold on this little frail, she was going to sing for him before he even had the chance for the real fun to begin. He knew she knew. She knew the reason he was here, and even that simple thought alone was part of the torture, it must have been agonizing for her. He almost pitied her, but the feeling passed rapidly.

He passed within a few feet of her trembling body, stalking her like a panther; then suddenly the frail let slip a sob of a breath. It was so light and so quiet that any normal human wouldn't have detected the sound. But Victor's senses were made for sounds like these, the inaudible wisp of sound waves resonating as loud as an explosion in his ears. Victor stopped dead then gravely stepped into the warmth of her body, so close that she could feel his breath wash over the sensitive skin on the back of her neck. Every hair on her body stood on end and her heartbeat kicked up ten notches. He stayed there for what seemed like an age before he spoke.

"That's a sweet sound frail…wonder if we can coax any more from you?" He paused. "Or…maybe something a little…_louder_?" He growled from behind, his flat tongue curling round the 'R'. His voice was course and heavy, like sandpaper on gravel, it reverberated dangerously around her body. She shivered; a mixture of his lewd and poisonous words and the stark realisation of the enormity of her situation.

She could barely speak; the words were there but were stuck in her dry hoarse throat. Her brain was screaming for her to answer him or feel his wrath, but her body was flatly refusing to cooperate. A shudder crept through her body once more but this time more powerful; it rose from her feet and juddered its way up the entire length of her spine; she felt her back stiffen in response.

"Awww frail…quaking for me already? But the fun hasn't even begun yet." He growled from behind his fangs.

"I know what you want Victor." The girl croaked; her voice breaking over his name, her strength all but spent trying to focus on staying upright. But no matter how she held herself, that perfect perfume permeated from her skin, the air of the apartment rank with fear. Victor inhaled it silently and smiled deeply as its coppery scent filled him. As long as he could smell that scent he knew he was doing all the right things.

Victor stepped from behind the girl and placed himself directly in front of her. His colossal frame dwarfed every part of her. Even his shadow was gigantic. With severe eyes, he drank in the sight of her, savouring her inferiority in comparison with him. Her height and her weight were never to be a match for him, it would the work of but a moment for him to sling her down and take what he wanted from her. There would no resistance, no hard fought struggle, no desperate and futile fight. The thought of her beneath him, crying, weeping and thrashing made his groin twitch and ache painfully. His hands itched with an overwhelming desire to reach around her throat, tighten there and then hear her scream. He could rip out her vocal chords, that'd shut her up, but then he wouldn't hear all those delightful little sounds he liked so much. He'd force them from her, find new and painfully ways to make her cry his name for all the wrong reasons. He'd shove her so hard against the flimsy kitchen wall he'd make the plasterboard crack and crumble. He'd slam into her body so violently that he'd shatter her pelvic bone; she would bleed and scream for mercy from him, she would howl for her own end. He would bite her to death, sink his fangs into her soft tissue and shred the flesh from her body in long slithering strips. He would leave her, convulsing and dying, taking with him all the satisfaction he came for.

"That's why you're here…isn't it?" She rasped throatily. Her eyes were watery, but she wasn't crying, she was trying to hold herself together. Her simple voice snapped Victor back from his black thoughts. His eyes locked into hers, filled with a murderous rage she had seldom witnessed before. Victor lunged forward and grabbed her chin in his hands, dragging her face so close to him that she could feel him breathing heavily over her. His grip was vice like, as if it were made of iron. His claws extended by mere millimetres, but still enough to catch the surface of her skin, leaving shallow and bleeding puncture marks in their wakes. The frail he held winced audibly as she felt his talons embed in her flesh. Tears welled in her wide eyes but she refused to let them fall.

"You stay the fuck outta' there 'path. You go in only when I say you can go in…have you got that? Try a stunt like that again and I will rip your fucking brain outta' your skull and eat it in front of you, you got that?" He snarled into her face, as he pushed her violently out of his head.

She struggled to nod as Victor held his vice like grip on her face. Her cheeks ached under the agonizing pressure of his ministrations. She managed to croak out a dry yes before he shoved her back so hard she lost her balance and fell, tumbling to the floor in a heap of aching arms and tired legs. She cracked her head sickeningly on the side of the couch as she fell to the ground with a thud.

As she gingerly raised her hand to her head, Victor felt a pang of anger surface inside him; not because of what he had done, but because he knew he would have to be much gentler with her if he planned on keeping her alive for any length of time. His anger was a constant; it wasn't so much a feeling for him, more of a state of being. He'd learnt to master his rage; he had the upper hand and could control it most effectively. He'd had decades to practise and had a body count to vouch for his attempts. But every once in a while it would burst forth spasmodically and when it did that he lost all control. Very few things made his anger and rage peak that way, but it was the little things that would give rise to his bloodlust. He would have to try and manage his bursts around her, or he risked leaving her torn and bloodied too soon to be able to accomplish what he needed. He would kill her eventually, of that he had no doubt. In fact he was relishing in the very thought of it, of all the ways he could snuff out her miserable and pointless existence. But for now he had to try not to seriously injure, maim or murder her, at least until he had gotten what he came for.

After a few moments of calm and deep contemplation, Victor tentatively reached out a giant hand to the girl who was practically prostrate at his feet. He desperately tried to fight back the burning desire to keep her where she was, lying at his feet. He liked to see women there, the only good place for a woman, her rightful place….either there or beneath his heavy frame crying and convulsing in agony. He shook his head to the left again, fighting with himself to shake the thoughts from his burdened mind. Victor retracted his claws just enough so they didn't look quite as menacing as usual. He loathed having to play nice; it just wasn't something he usually had to do. He normally got to play rough, very rough. He was used to breaking things and ending lives, not playing fucking sweet. But he knew that if he didn't behave himself, she'd be far less inclined to give him what he wanted. Sure he could take it from her any time he desired, rake it from her in loud wails, high pitched screams and torrents of warm spurting O negative, but the effect would never be the same as if she gave it to him willingly.

The frail took his hand deftly, unsure of whether to accept this unusual offer or to shy away from him. After a few seconds of indecision, and a deathly glare from the man above her, she thought it best to accept, or risk more bodily injury. Victor hauled the girl to her feet in a single swift motion, and then steadied her as she regained her balance. To her surprise, he snaked his right hand into her hair and brushed his course fingers over her delicate scalp. She winced under his touch, his knack for tenderness completely lacking. Dragging his fingers from her hair, he inspected the freed hand for traces of blood. He satisfied himself when he found none, knowing she'd suffer from one hell of a headache, but not from any form of severe blood loss or brain injury.

"I know what it is you want Victor." The girl all but whispered, her voice disappearing into the air like a wisp of steam.

"Then you'll know that I'm not leaving without it won't you?"

"But why? Why me? I know there are others out there, others that are far better than I am…why me?"

"Because you're the best I've ever had frail."

For a normal girl to hear that from the normal lips of a normal man, it would have been the highest accolade she could hope to receive. But this wasn't the type of compliment she wanted to hear, in fact she wished with all her might it wasn't the case. She fidgeted uncomfortably under his gaze, her eyes unwilling to meet his, unsure of what she might see hidden beneath them.

"I can't…I just…I…I can't be, there's no way. What about the others?" She was careful not to mention any names, for fear for inciting his rage and bloodlust.

"Fuckin' amateurs in comparison with you darlin', they didn't have a tenth of what you have."

"Please Victor, there has to be someone else?"

Victor was growing agitated, increasingly so with every syllable that escaped her pursed little lips. He could keep his rage in check most of the time, but he could feel it rising within him. Like a wave of anger it washed over him in a surge of heat and irritation. He could feel his claws extending subconsciously; he watched as her eyes ghosted over his fingers and saw the terror glaze over her chestnut peepers. A swell of fear rolled off her and poisoned the very air he was inhaling. The perfume was getting stronger once more. He was going to try and bottle it one day and keep some on him at all times, the power and sense of complete supremacy it gave him was incredible.

"Look frail, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You know which I'd prefer but I'll leave the choice to you this time. You can either help me and I'll let you live, hell I might even reward ya' if you do a good enough job. Or you can say no, I take what I want as painfully as I can and then I rip your fucking bowels out and use them to redecorate this shit hole you call home. Your choice darlin'." His voice deepened and rumbled off as a low growl as he spoke directly. She lowered her eyes to the floor, lest she catch his stare and wither beneath its intensity.

She wasn't answering him and it began to enrage him. Maybe shock held her tongue or maybe she was considering his offer of the 'hard way'; either way he didn't have the patience for this type of shit. Patience, in his eyes, was not a virtue and certainly not something an animal like him possessed. It was one of those things that indecisive pussies hid behind when they couldn't make up their goddamn mind. He hated indecision and how it smelt on the air; he had no time and no use for it, it irritated him to his very core. He glared at her so intently that he thought she might burst into flames in front of him. He contemplated lunging at her delicate throat in a flurry of animalistic rage and launching her clean out of the living room window. It wouldn't take much effort to ensure she cleared the small room and shattered through the single glazing of her poxy lace covered window. Hell if he threw her right, he could probably ensure the little bitch would live; although she'd be eating and pissing through tubes for a few months if she fell from this height. The thought pleased him very much.

But he stayed his seething temper, although it was against his will. He couldn't do that to her…as much as he desired to…not right now anyway. He needed her a little too much right now; she had a purpose to fulfil, she had something he wanted badly. Besides, it would take too long to find someone else who could do what she did so well, and he just didn't have the time to waste searching. But as soon as he was done with her, he'd have to think of a few more endings other than the window; something altogether more….satisfyingly painful.

"So frail…what's it gonna' be? Easy? Or…_hard_?" He put a little too much emphasis on the word hard, undoubtedly ruminating over the ramifications such a word could have.

"Doesn't look like I have much of a choice does it?"

"Sure ya' do, you've always got a choice. It just depends on how much you wanna' keep all your limbs that's all darlin'. And do you _really_ need your kidneys anyway?"

She paused.

"If I agree to help you, will I have to…will you want…?"

Victor nodded. "Yeah, it's part of it…makes it so much more…_intense_." He leered suggestively at her, his eyes travelling over the fragile white skin of her shoulders, imaging what it would look like covered in his bite marks and her blood.

The quaking girl raised a delicate hand to her mouth to stop vomit from spewing forth. Her diaphragm leapt into her throat and stuck there; expanding and contracting, sending waves of nausea into her oesophagus. She calmed herself and stayed her pulsating throat.

"What if I can hold it all back…without that?" The pain in her voice was almost tangible. Victor thought he might be able to hold it in his hands if she spoke that way again; like a small warm ball rolling between his massive palms.

"Even if ya' could frail…I'm takin' it any way." He chuckled darkly. He knocked her off balance with his words; he wanted to keep her that way. It was all going much better than he imagined. She still had all of her skin, her limbs and there was no blood…yet.

The girl bowed her head and dropped her hands to her stomach; they rested there for a moment before falling sombrely to her sides. Her head ached; a combination of the bash to the skull and the thoughts that all vied for her attention in that very instant. She knew he could make her life miserable, more than miserable; he'd make it utterly unbearable. She would long for the end and beg for it to come far sooner than he would ever allow. She knew the pain she would suffer at his hands would be far greater if she refused than it would be if she consented. At least if she agreed to his demands she might be able to keep some of his rage at bay, control some of it some how. She knew it was a fool's hope but she had to cling to something. She had tried before, to control his thoughts, but she failed spectacularly. He caught on to what she was doing; he broke six of her ribs and her left wrist as a punishment. He did it so slowly she could hear her own bones creaking as they were bent in all the wrong ways, she heard them snap and splinter beneath her pale skin. The pain was unimaginable, something she never wanted to experience again. She spent five months dancing in and out of the hospital, attending physiotherapy and taking a whole cocktail of pain relief; now her medical insurance wouldn't cover her for that type of injury again. Yes, she knew Victor would make her life excruciatingly unbearable if she refused him now.

She raised her head to look at him; she met his glare pound for pound in intensity. Her eyes burned into his and he saw something there he had never seen before. The perfect perfume was suddenly mixed with another potent emotion, something Victor was accustomed to all too well. It just smelt very strange to be coming from her. The frails eyes burned with fury and rage, but she had the good sense to keep it repressed. Her anger had a unique smell; it was quite unlike the heavy musky fragrance of her fear, it wasn't rich and deep. Her anger smelt invigorating, zesty almost; it was stimulating and revitalizing. If he had to compare it to anything it would be akin to a mixture of fresh lime, seawater and mountain air.

Reluctantly, the frail spoke softly. Her voiced wavered just as she allowed the first word to leave her mouth; it was tinged with uncertainty, nervousness and of course…fear.

"Alright." She paused, composing herself as best she could. "I'll do it."

"Smart move frail…you must value your kidneys after all." Victor half laughed as he turned on his heavy heels and made for the front door. He could feel her eyes burning right through him as he opened the door and took one step out into the repulsive hallway.

"When do we begin?" She called after him, almost frantic.

He threw a glance over his shoulder; it could have turned her to stone.

"Soon." He replied, closing the door firmly behind him.


	3. Flashbacks

_Okay, I had to_ _split chapter three into two seperate chapters as it would have been waaay too long and I was worried that I would bore you all with a super long piece of writing. More explanations in the next chapter I promise, more will be revealed. _

_I'm hoping you can all understand my Victor too. Yes he is a total animal, but I am trying to show the conflict between animal and man that rages inside him. He is mostly animal but he has a human side that keeps rearing its ugly head and throwing him off balance. Then again, the animal sometimes takes over far too much, hence the sustained violent thoughts he has. Its a mixture of the two, and one I hope reads well._

_I need to say a HUGE thank you to my fabulous new beta, DallasFan8304, who has been good enough to proof read this and gimme plenty of advice. I look forward to more PM's whilst we bat the following chapters around some more. I will try and add chapter four as soon as possible, but I am struggling with getting it started, so it may take a little longer than normal. Don't beat me._

_Once again, yadder, yadder, yadder....warning galore....violence, foul language, sex. You know the script by now._

_Enjoy babies._

_******_

Chapter Three

The man beneath Victor's grip was in excruciating amounts of pain. He had really gone to town on this one; Victor was surprised he had lasted so long, especially given his physical condition. He hadn't been ordered to fuck him up so bad, he just felt like getting his claws bloody; it had been too long since he had had a really good kill. Victor had had so much fun just toying with the man, seeing how many ways he could break his body before he eventually offered up his information. His list of injuries was extensive; a dislocated left shoulder, a shattered ankle, four deep and rather angry looking gouges through his left side, a punctured lung, seven missing teeth, two fingers missing from each hand, a ruptured spleen, a broken radius and more cuts and gouges than he could begin to count. And Victor hadn't even broken a sweat; he could keep it up all night if he had to; he wished he could. Despite the catalogue of pain, the man was still clutching onto his information like a drowning man clinging to a splinter of wood. It would do him no good, the end was inevitable.

"You gonna' gimme' a name yet feeb'?" Victor husked throatily, his voice catching like rough sandpaper as it left his mouth.

The bound man simply stared at Victor with all the rage of a thousand men. His eyes burned in his deep dark sockets with unbridled hatred, fear and hurt. He kept his mouth firmly shut and refused to speak. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and congealed quickly.

"Have it your way." Victor shrugged his heavy shoulders and took a step forward.

He heard a slight splatter as the pained man's left eyeball and attached optic nerves hit the wall behind him. It stuck there for a moment or two, watching the horror unfold, before crawling slowly down the wall and leaving long slick blood trails in its wake. The owner of the eye screamed in unbelievable agony. A deep and guttural scream that was bellowed out long and hard and pierced the quiet of the crisp night sky. The noise was of such a frequency that Victor turned his head in the slightest of winces. His animal ears and overly keen sense of hearing afforded him the ability to hear a pin drop, but also amplified sounds to the highest degree.

Victor's thick, muscled arm shot out directly in front of him and his clawed hand clamped down hard on the man's throat. The screaming ceased immediately and was replaced by a soft pathetic rasp. The man open and shut his mouth in a silent plea for mercy; he resembled a fish out of water, dying and sad. His remaining eye began to bulge, the white tinged with red as the pressure of straining built behind it. His wrists thrashed violently at his sides and his legs jerked spasmodically. There was no doubt that had Victor not taken the time to cable tie the man to the metal pole, he would be clawing at his thickset body. Futile as that attempt maybe. The man's face was turning a very unpleasant shade of red as the air he required so badly continued to evade him.

"You feel like talkin' now?" Victor growled, his chest rumbled deep and dangerously.

The man continued to mouth absently, failing to form words, instead just offering up illegible sounds and murmurs. Victor eased his grip ever so slightly, the man sucking in air so fast it gave him a head rush. The injured man drew in enough breath to be able to form just three very stupid words.

"Fuck you asshole…" He cried; blood around his newly empty eye socket still seeping down his flabby cheek.

Maybe he would have offered more pearls of wisdom, but Victor tightened his grip round his throat so fast he thought he might have snapped the poor unfortunate mans neck in the process.

"Not the answer I was looking for." He snarled.

Victor had no compunction in killing the man in his grasp, he felt no twinge of regret or guilt; he never had in the past, why break the habit? The man was a no body, just a two-bit middle man named Martin 'Morty' Short; a sleaze out to make some money on other people's misery and suffering. He was known to Team X for his various underhand dealings with opposing groups and factions; Stryker had had the man watched for quite some time, but not by Victor. Victor was no good at stealth and observation work, he didn't enjoy it; he found it boring and would very quickly invent his own 'interesting' mission. Morty himself wasn't overly important, but what was inside his head was absolutely vital. Victor had been ordered to 'interrogate' Morty as to the whereabouts of a particularly significant mutant by Colonel William Stryker. Victor had thought the task was a little beneath him and to be honest, pretty tedious. He wasn't known within the group for his conversational skills; he was more of an act then think type of brute. Victor had however, asked Stryker what would happen if the 'interrogation' got a bit…physical. Stryker simply replied that he though it was a real shame that the homicide rate in the city had gone up by so much. He smiled and then left the meeting room without so much as a backwards glance at a sadistically grinning Victor.

Morty had practically turned purple by the time Victor was ready to talk some more. He hated talking to his marks; unless he was taunting them and describing their horrific deaths to them before he dealt them out. He had nothing to say to the pathetic sacks of meat he duly terminated; to him they were just another pay check, just another bottle of beer.

"I'll ask you one more time frail…you don't answer…I take your left arm and have it Fedex'ed back to your little wife in Brooklyn." Victor paused, and then smiled repulsively. "Or on second thoughts…I could deliver it myself. I've been told that she's _quite _the looker. Funny… I wonder how pretty she'll look with my cock rammed down her fuckin' throat?" The image played in Victors mind. He pictured a petite little blond with big plastic tits on her battered knees in front of him, his swollen cock filling the mouth that would normally just spout shit and gossip to those around her. He laughed at the thought; maybe he would deliver that arm after all.

Morty shook his body so violently that had he been a large and more athletic man, he may have broken some of his bonds. (Amazing how frails would react the moment you mention their loved ones.) As it happened, Victor had nothing to fear; Morty was a rather portly, balding, forty-nine year old Caucasian male with the athletic prowess of a 6-month old girl. Victor snapped his head back sharply and locked his deathly glare back into Morty's eyes. A deep and animalistic growled shuddered from his body and his filthy talons extended slowly piercing the pudgy grey skin beneath them.

"Just gimme the name Morty and maybe when they find you they'll be able to put you in one body bag rather than several." Victor felt his offer was more than reasonable.

Victor loosened his grip on Morty's throat by millimetres, allowing him the chance to offer up a name. Through split, bloodied lips and shattered teeth, Morty breathed deeply and filled his one unpunctured lung with cool night air. As he exhaled a burning pain surged through his chest cavity as the hole in his right lung leaked. He cried out in agony, the whimper of pain was like a symphony to Victor's ears. Morty spluttered and coughed up some dark blood, trickling from the side of his mouth and dripping down onto his torn blue shirt.

"Alright, alright." He choked. The pain in his chest was all consuming. "I'll tell you."

Morty coughed slightly and sent specks of blood flying on to Victors black shirt. Victor paid no attention.

"Hurt. William…Hurt. That's…the man you…w…want."

"Where is he?" Victor barked darkly.

"He…he's at th…the old warehouse off 25th and…and…and…Saddle." Morty coughed again, the cooling blood congealing as it made contact with the cold air.

He was dying, Victor could sense it. He could feel his chubby frame beginning to sag and feel limp under his grasp and against the confines of the cable ties. The scent of death hung around him like a heavy shroud; it consumed the very air he stood in. Victor had realised many years ago that the dying had a very unique fragrance to them, quite unlike any other smell in this world. He couldn't begin to compare it, to do so would be a futile task as no words could describe the aroma. The fragrance was specific to each person and could only be smelt just before they passed over. Morty smelt strange; his scent was musty, like opening an aged book and breathing in the motes of dust that escaped from it. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was instantly recognisable.

Victor had retrieved the information he needed, and Morty's purpose in this life had now totally expired. He raised his single, battered eye to look at Victor directly, his heavy head hanging down to his chest. The look of resignation weighed heavy in his remaining eye, the bloodshot circle around his blackened pupil flashed defeat. Victor tilted his head to the right and glared back at him with a flash of his white fangs.

With the quickest slash of his claws, Victor had decapitated the dying Morty in less than seconds. His heavy head thudded to the concrete floor and his nose crunched as it broke on impact. It rolled about three feet away from his now slumped corpse, coming to a halt in a pool of thick slick looking blood. His dead eye stared at Victor from the ground, a misty glaze creeping over it ever so slightly as the life blood drained from his broken remains. The naked eye and normal human might not have ever detected this small act, but to Victor, it was as obvious as daybreak.

* * * * * * * * *

Victor collected the bloody and silent head of Morty Short and nestled it safely under the crook of his expansive arm. He'd black bag it and take it back to Stryker at the compound, see what he made of it. Cats always brought gifts back for those they lived with after their little expeditions into the field; birds, mice, frogs…heads. It seemed like the decent thing to do, plus the look on his face would be priceless. He threw a cursory glance at the cold mangled corpse of the former Mr Short. A cruel smile spread across Victors face; he licked his lips once and set off back to his pick-up.

Once outside, he made his way across the expansive car park and away from the derelict building, kicking up swirls of dust as he walked heavy footed on the ground. It was beginning to get dark, the blanket of night hung low in the sky and in the distance Victor could see street lights beginning to flicker on all over the sleepy city.

Victor stopped suddenly and raised his head into the air, his grip on the head tightened slightly. He could smell smoke, metal and death. He sensed that not very far from him, maybe a mile or two up the road, there had been an accident; a car crash of some sort. He could smell the distinctive tang of twisted and scorched wood…pine if he wasn't mistakened, fused together with bleeding, charred human flesh. The two fragrances danced in his oversized nostrils, teasing and playing with his heightened senses. The light nightly breeze billowed down wind and carried the aroma to him, hand delivered with affection. Victor laughed faintly, thinking that he might just stop off on the way back to base and take a little look for himself.

Heavy footed once more, he cleared three more paces towards his car, inhaling the aromatic smell of the woody smoke, until he was stopped dead in his tracks. His entire body froze and his mind went into a frantic spasm. The head of Morty Short fell from Victor's arms and crashed to the floor, sustaining more post-mortem injuries. Victor blinked hard once more and felt his brain almost implode with a white hot heat.

**********

_The trees the boys were sheltering under created a cocoon around them both. The thick, heavy branches hung only inches off the floor creating walls of fresh warm pine needles around them. The wind still swirled around them but not as badly as it had before. Victor had managed to manipulate the branches and bend them to his will in order to afford Jimmy just a bit more protection from the arctic blasts of cold night air. He had cleared the snow from the ground with his own hands; he did this till he could no longer feel the ends of his fingers and they glowed red from the cold. Victor had to protect his little brother, he would do all he could to ensure he was safe, warm and as happy as he could be. He created a little 'home' for them beneath the pines; a haven of safety, warmth and brotherly affection._

"_Eat this runt, it'll make ya' feel better." Victor husked to the quaking young boy who sat before him. He held out his own undernourished arm and handed something frosty to Jimmy._

"_What is it?" The young boy eyed the meat suspiciously; it didn't look as appetising as he had hoped. He knew his brother had tried and that he had to be grateful, he just found it very hard. He watched as Victor had tried to warm the meat over the dwindling fire he had made; the little flames and sparse heat barely warming the ice covered flesh._

"_It's polecat, there's nothing wrong with it…it's just a little…cold is all." Victor tried not to falter._

"_Where did you get it from?" Jimmy was always a barrage of questions, everything had to have an answer. He was so unlike Victor it was unbelievable._

"_I killed it dummy, where do you think I got it from?" The lie tasted greasy in Victor's mouth, but he knew if he told Jimmy the truth there wouldn't be a chance in hell of getting him to eat it. He cast his eyes to the freezing earth and chewed on his own piece of frigid meat._

_Jimmy took the smallest slither possible from his brother and raised the frozen meat to his trembling lips nervously. He glanced up at Victor for a moment and smiled at him gratefully. Jimmy loved his brother deeply and knew he was loved in return. Victor smiled back at the young boy, genuinely and with affection. Jimmy carefully nibbled at ice-covered flesh and chewed as little of it as he could. It tasted bitter and too cold, the muscular flesh had to be the most unpleasant thing he had ever consumed. Swallowing the solid meat already in his mouth, he screwed his face up and replaced the strip of flesh swiftly next to Victor. _

"_I can't eat that, I'll get sick again Victor." Jimmy whined impassively. Victor rolled his eyes and cast the strip of meat away into the night, flinging it as far from Jimmy as he could. He racked his brains as to what he might offer his brother to eat. Victor had searched most of the daylight hours to find the frozen meat, no easy feat in sub zero temperatures. In the middle of winter only the lame, ill or dying were above ground; they didn't make for satisfactory dining. _

_Lost in his thoughts a moment too long, Victor was suddenly snapped back to reality when he noticed that the tiny fire he had made a few hours ago was beginning to die. Its scarce glowing embers were a fragile reminder that it would soon radiate it's last ounce of heat. A harsh and cruel arctic wind from the North was blowing directly into their make shift camp, and was threatening to take the fire out completely. Weak tendrils of grey smoke rose into the night sky only to be obliterated by a swell of vindictive wind. The smell of burning pine hung in Victor's nose, it smelt good, strangely comforting, it reminded him of home. But Victor knew he had to keep the fire going somehow; if he didn't the runt might get really ill; he wasn't as strong as he was and Victor didn't know if he could survive another illness like the last one. _

_Using all his energy and might, Victor crawled across the frozen ground and held himself no more than a few inches away from Jimmy's face. _

"_I'm gunna' go and try find more firewood…" It pained him to abandon his younger brother like this, but he had to go, if he didn't he might not have a younger brother to protect at all._

"_NOOO…" Jimmy protested loudly, he couldn't bear to be left alone yet again._

"_I HAVE to Jimmy, if I don't find more wood the fire will go out and we won't have any heat. You'll get sick again, real sick. You don't wanna' get sick again do you?" Victor was brilliant at calming Jimmy. He was firm and fair with him, he did the best he could. He played the role of brother with the greatest of ease and had slipped into the role of father a little too well. Every protective and caring instinct that had ever lived in Victor, surfaced in him with a swell of brotherly affection every time he looked at Jimmy._

_Jimmy nodded deftly and wiped his muddy face. There were no tears; it was just an instinctive reflex of a young child hearing something they would rather block out. Victor raised his cold hand and rubbed Jimmy's shoulder as tenderly as he could without scratching him. _

"_I won't be long…I promise. I'll be back before you realise I'm gone. Here…" Victor reached into his inner coat pocket and fished about for a moment. He produced a small beaded band and handed it to Jimmy. A faint waft of leather filled Victor's nose as he handed the band to his little brother. The leather was musty and old, heavy and reassuring. It was an old friendship band made for him by his mother not long before she died. To Victor, it was more valuable than all the worlds gold; it never left his side, he kept it with him always._

_Jimmy smiled back at Victor as he clutched the little band in his cold frozen fingers. He knew what the item meant to his big brother and that Victor must have trusted him more than anyone in the world to look after it. Jimmy had a special job to do, he had to protect the band till Victor got back. He felt strong and important now; he didn't want to whine and cry any more, he wanted to be strong like his older brother. He couldn't let him down._

_Victor took both of Jimmy's clasped hands in his own, feeling the bone claws just below the skins surface. He looked his little brother dead in the eye._

"_I'm comin' back for this. Will you look after it for me till I come back? Don't lose it now; you know it's precious to me." Victor said sternly, the tone of his voice devoid of any anger or frustration he may have felt._

_Jimmy nodded enthusiastically and with wide eyes, his cold little hands gripping the leather band as tightly as he could. Victor smiled deeply at him and then rose to his feet. He pulled his coat around him as tightly as he could and he hunked the collar up around his neck some more. Glancing down at Jimmy, he watched him play with the band, stroking the worn out leather with as much love and affection as one might use to stroke a small animal. Victor smiled and spoke softly to his brother._

"_I won't be gone long, so stay here…don't go ANYWHERE. Wrap that coat around you some more." He paused. "That's it. Now look after that band for me Jimmy, I mean it…I'll be back for it in a few minutes."_

_Victor turned and stalked off into the night. His excellent mutant sight aided him against the darkness of the night and he saw almost as clear as he did during the day. He passed a few trees, their branches heavy with mid-winter snow before turning back to look at his little camp, checking as only a brother would. Jimmy was already tightly curled into a ball beneath the tall pine, his hand in a tight little fist; he looked like he was drifting off to sleep._

_Victor smiled contentedly before turning and dashing off into the darkness of the night once more._

_********** _

When Victor's vision returned he spun round frantically, slashing wildly at the air around him with his sharp extended talons. His breathing was ragged and erratic, and his mouth was as dry as cotton husks. His poor head pounded for a few seconds until his hyper-vigilant regenerative factor pushed the piercing pain out of his racing brain. In less than ten seconds, order had been restored to Victor Creeds body. A wave of utter rage washed over him, the searing heat deep inside was threatening to surface. The fire in his stomach poured from his fanged mouth and he roared deeply into the innocent night sky.

Victor gathered Morty's decapitated head; it felt cold to the touch already and the bluish-complexion of the victim's skin was indicative that it was already advancing into its first signs of decay. He dug his stained claws into the forehead, carrying it like one would a bowling ball. He jammed his car keys into the lock of the pick-up and flung the grotesque head callously and thoughtlessly to the right, losing it somewhere within the cramped, passenger space. Ramming the keys into the ignition, the four-litre engine roared to life and before a moment's passing, Victor swerved the vehicle round violently, speeding out of the parking lot as fast as he could."

A frustrated growl permeated from his throat. He was going to try and wait, to hold out for a little longer, and test his control over the undesired flashbacks. His limit peaked, he had pushed himself as hard as he could and was trying his damndest to ignore them. But they were getting progressively worse still. The memories kept flooding back to him; forcing him to see everything in his violent, colourful past. Every man he had mutilated, every woman he had tortured and raped, every baby and child he had skewered and maimed, every life he had destroyed, snuffed out on a whim. They were all laid out in front of him, had emerged like ghostly shadows from some horrific and morbid nightmare. He could face and accept most of it, gladly turning a blind eye to most of the fucked-up stuff he had done. Hell, he even found the violent flashbacks almost amusing, like highlighted reminders of 'fun times.' They wore him down after a while, but only due to the sleep deprivation that followed them. He tired of seeing frozen faces and twisted corpses, mixed together in some dreamlike state

But the childhood memories were what burned him the most. Any memory of him and Jimmy cut him to ribbons, to an extent that he could face no more. The drivel of sentimentality was too much to bear; it ate at his brain like a fat, lazy grub slowly chewing its way into rich, decaying pulp. He saw his unfortunate mother, his drunken father, poor, weak little Jimmy, the kind and loving Mr. and Mrs. Howlett and all the other significant characters that made up the play of his childhood. They surfaced into his mind like actors onto a stage, re-enacting scenes from years past. His flashbacks were increasing in frequency, like a malignant tumour that weakened his resolve and made him question himself too deeply. Initially, it had surfaced after particularly bloody killing sprees; a random memory would reappear inside of his head before fading away into the murky depths in the back of his mind where he wanted them to remain. They merely popped up like pretty fireworks and then disappeared as though it had never been. But now, nearly eleven months down the line, the flashbacks could not be predicted. They came with no established pattern and with no recognisable trigger. Anything from a particular scent, to a facial expression, a touch, a texture, to a visual image could stimulate one without warning, a painful memory explosion deep inside his thick-headed skull.

Victor could take no more. It was affecting his whole life and he needed a release from the burden of these memories. The thought that his actions in life had disappointed Jimmy was more than he could bear. He could rape, kill and maim till the end of time and never feel any guilt, hell he enjoyed it. But the thought of letting Jimmy down, even by one terrible extension of his long claws caused the guilt to crash down upon him with all the weight of a black hole. The internal conflict was beginning to rip Victor apart; it was tearing at the very fibres of his being.

He needed the glow.

He needed it so badly that he was willing to kill for it, his body and mind ached for it in equal measure. He needed that sweet relief, the complete numbness that accompanied the glow. He needed his twisted thoughts and haunting memories to be pushed far from his racing mind and for respite from the animal within. He had battled internally for long enough; for months he had toiled with himself, he longed for his 'fix'. He had to see the empath; she was the only one that could help him now. She had the power, the ability to hold back his thoughts; she could afford him enough time to collect himself and regain his composure. He didn't need her to control his thoughts, only his memories; he needed her to temporarily eradicate them for him. He craved the 'afterglow', those few days of absolutely exquisite peace that allowed him to see things clearly and with a free mind. It was like a drug to him, twice as addictive as cocaine and ten times more potent. He had to dose up now, he was crying out for a fix. The glow made him feel like the raging beast within him had been tranquilised; as if it rested in a dreamless slumber. The constant state of anger and choas was replaced with stillness and order, the burning fire in his throat quenched. After the glow, his whole body tingled and buzzed with the type of peace he had not felt for over a century. He needed that now.

There was only one place he could go to tonight, only one person that could help him.

Louisa.

His pick-up screeched onto the deserted freeway, swerving and faltering as the ground changed from gravel to asphalt. He slammed the gear box roughly into fourth and cruised at an increasing speed to his goal.


	4. Louisa

_Okay I FINALLY have chapter four, this has been the most difficult thing I have ever had to write. I'm not sure why but I totally struggled with it, I pray it reads well and that you're not all in a boredom coma at the end of it. _

_There are alot of flashbacks in this chapter, but they were the only way I could get eveything i wanted in with the whole thing being one monster piece of narrative text._

_A huge thank you to the amazing Fyrefly who's help with this has been invaluable. Also to the fabulous DallasFan who has been an unbelievable help to me from the word go! You two are my little beta-angels!!!_

_Anyway, as always, i hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think via a review!_

_******_

Chapter Four

"_Louisa honey…come sit with mama." Jane Miller wept openly, salty tears rolling down her pale cheeks in long elegant lines. Louisa stumpy little legs carried her down the long white corridor; she took firm hold of her mother's outstretched hand, jumping up on to her warm lap and nuzzling her little body into the heat of her mother's chest. The doctors in surgical greens behind Jane bowed their heads in reverence and took a step back; in total silence they allowed Jane to address her daughter as they removed their protective masks from their faces._

"_Why are you cryin' mama?" Louisa asked gently, her voice muffled slightly by her mother's overcoat against her mouth. Louisa's tiny heart was wrenching at the sight of her usually tall, proud mother weeping so openly before her. It made her want to cry too, she felt her eyes begin to tingle as tears tried to form. But something deep down inside told her she had to be strong for her mama; that she couldn't cry or she might upset the one she loved dearly even more._

_Jane choked back a dry sob somewhere in her throat. With her free hand she wiped away the tears that were staining her face with a man's handkerchief. Her other hand clutched her little girl even more ferociously to her chest. Jane buried her nose into Louisa's shock of fiery red curls that crowned her head and inhaled deeply, taking in her daughter's warm and reassuring smell; patchouli and violets. After a few moments of trying to compose herself; Jane pulled back a few inches and looked Louisa dead in the eye._

"_Now Louisa, I have something to tell you, something very sad." The older woman paused, her composure failing her; she spoke again but softer this time. "You understand that papa wasn't well didn't you? That he was very ill?"_

_Louisa nodded. "Yes mama, the doctors said he had broken his heart." The little girl's memory was very good; she recollected everything the nice doctor in the long white coat had told her that day. Louisa remembered feeling very scared when she was told that her papa was ill; she wondered why his heart had broken and what had caused it, she hoped she hadn't done something wrong again. But her fears subsided a little when the nice lady doctor told her that she could make him all better again. _

_Jane wept silently once more, her composure seriously faltering, her mournful tears resuming their path from her bloodshot eyes down towards her chiselled chin. They glistened in the unnatural fluorescent strip lights of the sterile hospital, before falling on to the lapels of her grey herringbone coat._

"_That's right baby, he had broken his heart and he was feeling very poorly." Louisa listened intently, her pale eyes glaring ferociously at her mothers damp face. She immediately picked up on her mother's use of the word 'was' instead of 'is'. Even at such a young age, she knew this was wrong and that things weren't as they should be. Her brain was taken over by a heavy sense of uncertainty; Louisa knew her mama wouldn't ever lie to her, but she knew that her papa was going to get better…he just had to. He was a strong man; he could pick her up with just one arm and swing her onto his broad shoulders as she laughed and giggled wildly. He could push her higher on the swings than anyone else ever could, so high she thought she could touch the clouds. Her papa could fix anything that was ever broken; he made her pink bike brand new again after she bust the handle bars. Little Louisa didn't want to believe that her precious papa was that ill._

"_Well…the doctors here tried to look after him; they gave him lots of medicines to make him better." More tears rolled down Jane's face. Louisa suddenly noticed that her mother had seemed to age in an instant, like time had suddenly caught up with her. Her mother's regular peachy, smiley face had vanished and was replaced with an ashen and sunken look, telltale lines of grief and sorrow were etched around her glassy eyes and on her forehead. Louisa knew that something was very wrong._

"_They tried the best they could honey, they tried to fix his broken heart, but they couldn't. Papa's heart was very badly damaged and the doctors couldn't save it…" Jane broke down in tears once more, unable to contain the flood of water that now gushed forth from her eyes. She sobbed openly and with abandon. Louisa hated seeing her mama so sad, she wished she could help, she longed to take away her pain._

_The little red haired girl felt a great sense of sadness wash over her as she listened to her mama's sad words. She knew something was very wrong as her mama was beginning to talk about her beloved papa in past tense. She knew this wasn't right, she had learned a little about it in school a few weeks ago, she knew her mama was talking all wrong. But despite what her little brain was telling her, Louisa couldn't shake the rising wave of unhappiness that was beginning to grow stronger. She felt worried and confused, she knew what this all meant but didn't want to voice her sadness for fear of it being real. She had to know though; she had to find out if what she thought was really true, or was her mind just playing cruel tricks again like it did in the darkness of her bedroom at night when she saw monsters._

"_Papa is in heaven…isn't he mama? He's with grandmamma and all the other angels…isn't he?" Louisa whispered, her voice carried lightly on the deftest of exhalations._

"_Yes baby, he is…papa is in heaven now." Jane nodded. _

_Louisa sat very still and listened to what her mama had just told her. Her little brain soaked up the wealth of information she had just learned and held onto it as tightly as it could without it aching. Her brain was like a tangle of knotted spaghetti, nothing made any sense and all her thoughts were jumbled around. They danced in and out of her head, popping up like a firecracker then disappearing just as fast as they arrived. But despite all the chaos in her brain, one thing remained constant. Her mother's words replayed over and over and over. Like a cassette player stuck on a continuous loop, just absently repeating the same hideous words over again. _

_Louisa felt tears welling in her eyes; they were hot, they burned and stung like the time she rubbed fresh squeezed lemon juice in them by accident. She tried to be strong and not cry in front of her sad mama, but she couldn't help it, she couldn't stop the tears. Her pouting bottom lip quivered and trembled for a few seconds as the tears she was clinging to, began to trickle down her chubby little face. Louisa sucked in a small gasp of cool air then exhaled in a loud and painful wail. All her sadness and grief poured from her slick little mouth in an extended range of shrill decibels. Straight away, Louisa felt strong arms wrap around shaking frame even tighter, as a mother and daughter wept together over the loss of a much loved husband and father._

_Louisa had never felt pain like this before in her whole short life. The sense of loss, even at such a tender age, was completely overwhelming and totally unbearable. She couldn't understand why the doctors couldn't fix her papa. They fixed other people all the time, why couldn't they fix her beloved papa? She knew he had a broken heart, but the doctors had told her they could mend it, they would give him some special medicine and he'd be okay again._

_She couldn't believe that she wouldn't see her papa ever again. He'd never again be able to read to her bedtime stories of faraway lands, or buy her fluffy pink candy floss, or teach her how to fish for shimmering silver sprats in their little stream out the back of the house. So many things that he would never again share with her, so many things he would never get to see her do. Her mind was struggling to comprehend the whys and wherefores of his pointless demise, too busy centring all its energy on the excruciating pain that was rising inside her now. She felt sick to her stomach, like her insides were burning and like her heart was being cut from her chest with a pair of dull plastic safety scissors. She felt as if she were being choked to death by her own grief and tears._

_After a few moments, Louisa sensed a feeling deep inside her. It was small and insignificant at first, it ran along side her grief and pain. But as the seconds passed by, the sensation became stronger and much more noticeable._

_She couldn't say exactly what the feeling was; it was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She felt strangely excited and exhilarated all at once; although she knew that feeling so at such a time was very wrong, but she couldn't help it. It felt like her entire body was vibrating, like every inch of her skin was tingling and buzzing. It was as if someone was passing a strong electrical current just below her skin, it crackled and fizzed quite violently. Louisa let a slight whimper of glee escape her little lips as the unnatural phenomenon took over her body. She threw her head to look up at her mama to see if she could feel the vibrating too, but her mama hadn't seemed to have noticed at all. Louisa pushed back all the pain and sorrow deep in her mind and instinctively concentrated on the feeling that was expanding inside her. She focused all her energy on it, directing all her thoughts on to this bizarre occurrence. It grew and inflated inside her, like helium filling a rubber balloon; the vibrating becoming stronger and much more intense with each passing second. It felt as if a thousand hands were tickling her all over her body, like all her skin was as ticklish as her feet! Her body quivered and prickled silently, unnoticed by everyone but Louisa. The sensation grew to such an extent that she thought she might burst into flames or explode from the immense pressure terrorising her young body._

_Suddenly, everything in Louisa's world fell deathly quiet. An eerie silence filled her ears and she could hear nothing, it felt as though all of her sense of sound had been suspended. Her mothers heaving dry sobs had vanished, the bustle and commotion of the busy hospital had ceased and even Louisa's own steady heartbeat had hushed to an inaudible thump in her chest. Casting her eyes around her, Louisa could see lips moving, but heard nothing. Around her machines flashed and vibrated, but she heard not a single echo of sound. The silence of her mind was deafening and thrilling. _

_And then came this next thing. A dull and distant rumble at first far in the back of her mind, then it grew to become the most intense pounding Louisa had ever heard. The sound seemed to not only fill her ears, but all her senses; it throbbed in her lips, in her fingers, in her temples…in her very veins that glimmered blue beneath her pale skin. It grew louder and louder, as if it were trying to reach some terrible and climatic crescendo in her mind._

_Then within a nano-second, the pounding ceased and a violent shockwave ripped through her fragile body and blasted Louisa three feet clean from the warmth of her mother's lap. All other sound and noise rushed back into Louisa's ears, like fallout from a nuclear explosion. A mushroom cloud of sounds overloaded her senses, raining down in a shower of beeps, ticking and sobs. It felt as if she was hearing things for the very first time, like sound had evaded her all her short life. Everything that filled her ears was crystal clear and amplified ten times their normal range. _

_The sensation was unlike anything that Louisa had ever experienced before. Residual tremors of the shockwave coursed through her body and out of the ends of her fingers and toes. The feeling she was left with was one of profound peace and harmony, something completely out of this realm of any human understanding. A warm glow filled Louisa's mind; like embers from a dying fire, it smouldered deep inside her head. It felt as if a tidal wave of unimaginable internal force was massaging her little brain and pushing back all her grief, pain and sorrow. She could feel every ounce of mourning she had previously felt drain from her mind; it slid from her head in long imaginary silver trails, twinkling as they vanished into the ether._

_Louisa felt completely calm again._

_********** _

It had been many years since Louisa Miller felt her first empathic and emotional blast, but over time she had come to understand her ability well. She knew the limits of her gift and rarely pushed them, preferring to keep them at level she felt comfortable with. It had taken many lengthy attempts and many blasts for her to be able to manage her powers effectively; the bruises and knocks she incurred stood as testament to the difficulty she had endured in controlling her powerful empathic blasts. She also realised at a young age, that along side her empathic blasts, ran the amazing ability to influence people's mood. She didn't need to touch them, she required no contact, she simply needed to be within sight of the person she wished to influence. The closer she was the stronger her influence, but even at a distance of one hundred feet, her powers were still remarkably effective. It had taken her longer to master this skill as she found it harder to enter people's minds without them sensing her presence there. But now she felt comfortable using her powers and commanded them well; they served her needs excellently, using them to her advantage and also in aiding others around her. Louisa understood what her powers meant, not only to herself but to other people too. She saw the value in them and understood their worth and importance. She regarded her ability as a particularly special one, as she had the ability to help people, to enhance and improve their lives if she so desired.

She revered and respected her unique powers in equal measure, and she imagined that those around her would extend the same courtesy. However, this was not the case, and in her youth she had been naïve enough to allow her abilities to be exploited for the gains of others. At twenty-one years of age, Louisa learned the hard way that not everyone had the same respect for her gift as she did.

* * * * * * * * *

"_I'm not doing it any more Ian, it's totally wrong." Louisa swung the glass office door firmly shut behind her as she stepped into the air conditioned office of her boss, Ian Veymar. The air was thick with the smell of cheap cigar smoke, old sweat and stale semen. She wrinkled her nose at the sickening thought and pushed the vile images from her mind._

"_What are you talking about?" The fat, sleazy executive purred as he punched the number pad of his cell phone with a chubby digit, observing her through the thick lenses of his glasses. His sleek bald head shone as the midday sun crept through the blinds that encircled the expanse of his plush all glass office._

"_I know what you're doing and I don't want to be a part of it any more!" Louisa said firmly, standing tall, her back as straight as the path in her mind._

"_Look Louisa, just get back in there, do your thing and get out…it's very simple. No one needs to know; you get paid, we gain another company and make millions, everyone's happy!" Ian tried to laugh, his patience waning as Louisa's shrill voice went right through him._

"_But I'M NOT HAPPY! What you're making me do is illegal and unethical. What I'm doing it so beyond wrong! You sit me there like some pretty little doll, all smiles and low cut tops and just expect me to mind fuck everyone in there."_

"_Not everyone…just the clients sweet cheeks." Ian corrected her condescendingly. _

"_I'm not doing it any more; you've made enough money out of me." _

_Ian rose from his expensive black leather chair swiftly, his sweaty palms crashing down onto the solid oak desk in front of him. Papers and receipts scattered into the air in a flurry of commotion before settling on the carpeted floor. He knocked a half empty cup of black coffee over, the cool java spilling all over his desk. He cursed openly._

"_I will not lose out on this deal just because you decided to finally find your conscience, you little bitch. This is a multi-million dollar deal, and there's way too much a stake to let you fuck it up with your morals and ethics." Ian seethed at her from behind clenched un-cleaned teeth. He was aware that his pretty little secretary Samantha was sat just outside his office pretending to understand what work she was actually doing; he didn't want her to hear this conversation. Although she was usually oblivious to the conversations around her, she still had ears and he knew she would pick up on raised voices; he really didn't want her getting wind of this argument. _

_He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. He knew that raising his voice to Louisa would have the opposite effect from the one he desired; she would be much more inclined to flip him off if he was screaming at her._

"_We had a deal, Louisa. You do this for me, you get your money pumped direct into your bank account, tax free, no questions asked," Ian threatened menacingly. _

"_Then consider the deal off you asshole. I don't want your goddamn money if it means exploiting innocent clients. They're already in enough financial hardship as it is, without me manipulating their minds into accepting ridiculously low bids for their companies. Find yourself another deal broker!" Louisa growled low in her throat. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in anger, her face felt white hot and her body was beginning to tremble. Her palms were clammy with rage._

"_Do you realise the amount of money you could have made outta this deal? Millions of fucking dollars, you dumb bitch, you could have been farting through silk and wiping your ass with velvet. But not any more…you're fired. Collect your shit and get the fuck outta my office…you stupid little cunt." Ian spat as venomously as he could, his rage hitting its peak swiftly. He could find another empath, he had connections. Hell, he might find one that might actually let him fuck her._

_Louisa had already begun to head towards the door, her stiletto heels shuffling quietly against the weft of the carpet beneath her feet. She grabbed the cold silver door handle and turned one last time to look at the man that had made her working life completely unbearable. He repulsed her, everything about him screamed tacky, nasty and overpriced. _

"_Fuck you Ian…I quit."_

_* * * * * * * * _

Louisa had been in her current job for almost three years, and of everything type of employment she had ever had, she adored her current situation more than any of them. She worked full time as a counsellor to the bereaved at her local help-centre, Rose Hope Community Hall; comforting those lost souls who felt that they had no-one else to talk to, no-one else to speak to of their grief. Louisa had experienced first hand the pain of losing a loved one; she knew with her powers she could put them to positive use and give people some temporary respite and relief from the destructive and devastating force of their own grief and sorrow.

She had volunteered at first, in reply to an advert someone had posted in the coffee shop window where she worked. Louisa found plenty of time in her week to help struggling souls whilst juggling her part time job of serving steaming lattes and frothy mochas to greedy investment bankers. But after nearly a year of helping people for free, the centre decided that she was too good at her job to lose her to another centre or hospital. When they offered her a full time job, Louisa practically knocked her boss clean off the ground as she threw her skinny arms around the woman with unbridled glee. The pay was very modest, the days were long and draining and it was to be the complete polar opposite to what she had expected to be doing, having obtained a degree in business management and a masters in international business law.

But it didn't matter; she absolutely adored her job.

Louisa helped people the best she could. Her employers were aware of her ability, but they never pushed her or encouraged her to use it, they left that to her own discretion. Usually talking to the bereaved would be enough. Simply allowing the grief stricken parent, brother, wife, sibling, a chance to pour out their feelings and woes was normally enough to help them move forward in their mourning. Occasionally some people needed a little more than just words. They needed 'intervention' as Louisa called it. She would use her powers to very discreetly manipulate their distress and try turning it into something altogether more positive. She rarely used her empathic blasts at work; they were seldom called for, but she was always ready and on constant stand by if the occasion ever arose.

Her employment with Rose Hope had also afforded Louisa some of her closest and dearest friends. The charming Clarice Langdon, the witty Anne Davenport, the sassy Sandra Reynolds and of course the amazing Christina Bielski. These four girls meant as much to her as any family member ever could. They dined out regularly, went drinking and dancing on a weekend and shopped to the point where none of the girls could walk any further. They had become her family, her life and they meant the world to her.

But of all the friends she had ever made, and all the people she had ever met during her time at Rose Hope, one person she met would change her life forever.

* * * * * * * * *

_Louisa propped herself up against the worktop of the small communal kitchen that was littered with dried up teabags and stained mugs. Behind her the ancient coffee machine hummed and droned quietly as the water began to heat itself; the smell of fresh percolated coffee leaking into the air in long bitter trails._

"_By golly that sure smells good!" A voice called from the doorway to the kitchen._

_Louisa snapped out of the deep recesses pf her mind and spun round to face the mystery voice. She smiled as she was greeted by the friendliest looking person she had ever laid eyes on. _

_The woman before her was of a diminutive height and of average weight. She had a shock of bright blonde hair that tumbled in long lazy curls down past her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled with the most amazing sapphire colour that Louisa had ever seen, they practically shone. Her complexion radiated, her skin was gleaming. She was dressed in a casual white tee-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, her feet housed in a pair of flat strappy sandals. A set of long brightly coloured beads hung down across her chest, they reminded Louisa of Skittles. The woman looked like she had just come from a beach in California; her style was quite different to the usual conservative day dress of people of the city._

_The woman moved forward swiftly, stepping into the warmth of the tiny kitchen. Confidently, she stretched out her arm, offering Louisa a perfectly manicured hand to shake. Louisa smiled heartily and took the woman's hand, shaking it gently but firmly. The woman seemed to radiate friendship and kindness._

"_Hi I'm Louisa Miller, I'm one of the counsellors here."_

"_Nice to meet you Louisa, I'm Helena Birddstein…but you can just call me Birdie…everyone else does!"_

_* * * * * * * * * _

It wasn't long after Birdie died that Louisa had her very first encounter with a man named Victor Creed. Of all the things she had left to Louisa after her passing, this was one gift she never wanted.

* * * * * * * * *

_Louisa had been at home they day he had called her; she was spending her first Saturday off in almost three months, redecorating her little kitchen. She was covered in paint; matt eggshell blue splattered in blobs in her hair, on her face and on her overalls. She didn't mind much, she had the satisfaction of knowing the mess had come from a long and hard days work. Resting the paintbrush in the paint tray next to her, she slipped her lithe body carefully off the counter. Mindful of the numerous paint pots that were scattered across the kitchen, she crossed the few paces of lino floor on her delicate tip toes and turned to admire her handiwork. Taking a sip from a chilled and rapidly condensing glass of chardonnay that lay on the kitchen counter, Louisa stood back and viewed the freshly painted kitchen walls with bright eyes. She had done a very good job; minimal blobbing and her lines were pretty clean cut too, another coat and she would be done._

_Just as she raised the glass to her lips for another sip of her wine, the phone in the living room rang; its shrill tone breaking the silence of the little apartment in a flurry of decibels. Louisa swiftly replaced her wine glass onto the countertop and danced over to the pine table by the side of the couch. She raised the cream phone receiver to her paint covered ear and answered merrily._

"_Hello?" _

_Nothing._

"_Hello?" Louisa called out again, slightly raising her left eyebrow._

_Once again there was nothing. No voice, no sound, nothing._

"_Hellooo? Is there anybody there?" She sing songed into the phone in her most melodic tone, her voice lingering on the 'ere'. Suddenly, she he heard life at the end of the phone; a shuffling sound, like a rustling of papers._

"_Is that Louisa Miller?" A gruff male voice purred lazily into Louisa's ear._

"_Speaking."_

"_Louisa Miller of Rose Hope Community Hall help centre?" _

"_This is she, who am I speaking to?"_

"_I was given your number by a friend." The voice ground out. It was hypnotic; utterly spell bounding. _

"_A friend? Who? What friend? Do I know her?" _

_There was some more shuffling in the other end of the phone line._

"_Birdie." The voice bristled into the receiver, his tongue lolling around the fragile name like he was rolling a small ball around his mouth. Louisa paused, unsure of how to answer at first._

"_Yeah…yeah I know…sorry…I knew Birdie…she worked with me down at Rose Hope. Sadly she's not there any more, did you know she had passed away a few months ago?" Louisa hoped to high heaven that she wasn't breaking some unexpectedly bad news to the man on the other end of the phone._

"_Yes, she was a __**very**__ close…friend of mine, we were __**extremely**__ close…" They way the man spoke made it sound like Birdie and he could have been partners; maybe even lovers at some point._

"_Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't majorly close to her, I just knew her through work, she was a really nice girl, I liked her a lot."_

"_Yeah…so did I…" The voice uttered seductively. His words shuddered down the phone and jolted down to the base of Louisa's spine. She rode his voice as he spoke; his words were as powerful as lightening and just as dangerous._

"_Anyway…mister…"_

"_Creed…Victor Creed."_

"_Anyway Mister Creed, can I ask why exactly you are calling me?"_

"_Birdie left me your phone number and…told me to call you if I ever needed any…help." The voice on the end of the phone exhaled so deeply that it felt like he was stood over Louisa, breathing down the neck of her tee-shirt. It was like he was in the room with her, over her, under her._

"_Yeah? What type of…help?" Louisa frowned deeply, a red flag flashed in the recesses of her mind. She ignored it, allowing it to disappear like steam; she pressed him further_

"_Not that type so stop worrying…Lou'. She told me to call you if I ever needed anyone to talk to, if I ever needed some kinda…mental help. She had been counselling me for a few months before she died, but we never got to finish our sessions. She told me that if ever I couldn't get hold of her that I should contact you and that you'd finish…where she…left off so to speak." The voice poured into Louisa's ear like molten gold. She shivered as he entered her head._

"_What type of counselling were you going through Mister Creed?"_

"_Please…call me…Victor. I was having a specific type of…counselling."_

"_Specific? Specific how?" Louisa found his frequent pauses before words quite unnerving to say the least._

"_I had a horrendous childhood, and my adult life hasn't been too hot either, I keep getting quite disturbing and terrible flashbacks. I've dealt with a lot of…erm…deaths in my life. Birdie was…counselling…me through them."_

"_Oh right, okay…well it sounds like the type of thing I can help you with. I specialise in bereavement counselling you see, so I might be of some use to you." Louisa's voice kicked up an octave, her optimism almost tangible._

"_I'm sure you will be…" He voice fired off low and lethal._

"_I work every day down town at Rose Hope, from ten till four…just pop in anytime and I'm sure…"_

"_Yeah, that's not gonna' work for me I'm afraid. I just can't make it to Rose Hope, me and…Birdie used to meet up on the corner of Fifth & Bleaker and we'd take it from there."_

_Something akin to a red flag popped up for the second time in Louisa's mind. Something didn't feel quite right but she couldn't put her finger on it. Against her better judgement, she waved it off as silly and childish once again._

"_Fifth & Bleaker is quite a way outta town, we might be better if we met somewhere a little more accessible for our first session." Louisa offered, feeling that it would be a little safer and easier to meet somewhere busier rather than by the docks._

"_Please Louisa, that place is much easier for me and I know it so very…well." The voice was trying to sound reassuring; it was succeeding. Louisa paused for a moment. She knew Birdie pretty well, more through work but they did socialise out of work occasionally. Birdie had an extensive client base, so Louisa reckoned it would only be a while before some of them began to filter through to her. Besides, she highly doubted that Birdie would recommend someone to her that would be harmful; Birdie was sensible and level headed that way, she never got in above her head with anyone._

"_Yeah…yeah okay Mister Creed…" Louisa nodded down the phone._

"_Victor." The voice all but growled._

"_Okay…Victor…that's fine. If that's where you feel comfortable then we'll meet there. Birdie was a nice girl, I'm sure she'd have spoken highly of you. How are you fixed for sometime next week?"_

"_No can do, I need to talk to you much sooner than then. How about…tomorrow?"_

_The question caught Louisa off guard, and she fumbled out an answer._

"_Yeah sure, okay then, tomorrow is fine. Say around twelve o'clock?"_

"_Make it one…"_

"_That's fine then, one o'clock on the corner of Fifth & Bleaker. Do you have a contact number, just in case we need to reschedule?"_

"_I'm afraid I don't, but I have your number…"_

"_Er…okay…that's fine, no worries mist…Victor. So I'll see you then."_

"_That's great…see you there, Louisa…" _

_She was about to hang up, but a thought burst into her head just before she replaced the receiver. _

"_Oh wait! Er…how will I know it's you Victor?"_

"_Oh don't worry, Louisa…I'll find you…"_

_* * * * * * * * * _


	5. Dante's Inferno

_Okay guys, once again I have had to split this chapter up as it was going to be HUGE otherwise. Smut will follow in the next chapter, but be warned, it certainly ain't the fluffy kind. There will be rape and sexual violence...you have been warned in advance if it ain't your bag. Any way, this chapter contains flashbacks and violence which might be upsetting to some, so again...you've been warned._

_A MASSIVE thank you to the amazing Fyrefly and the astounding DallasFan, who have both veto'd this one for me...you two rock my world!!_

_Enjoy my love, R&R if you can!_

********

Chapter Five

Louisa could sense that Victor Creed was right outside her front door, lingering in the hallway he detested so vehemently. She had sensed his arrival before he had even set foot into her apartment building, she could sense his murderous mood; his anger becoming stronger and stronger as he took the winding multiple of steps up to her apartment four at a time, clearing them with ease in giant leaps. His rage was almost like an invisible radar, sending out sonic waves of fury that radiated through the air. Louisa sensed that the anger was deep seated and had likely arisen from the recollection of a painful and undesired memory, although she couldn't pin point which one exactly.

The front door shook violently as the raging man on the other side slammed his balled fist repeatedly against the wood. Louisa thought he might shatter it with his strength, send it flying from its hinges in a shower of a hundred thousand tiny splinters. She cowered for just a moment, hunching her shoulders over, quivering in fear of his arrival; then mustering some much required strength from deep within, she crept towards the door gingerly.

"If this door ain't open in five seconds, frail, I will rip it from the fucking frame…" Victor warned with a quiet growl, hushed but loud enough so that Louisa could hear his venomous words. His voice was low and deadly, with all the precision and lethal calculation of a seasoned assassin. Louisa felt a bolt of icy fear shoot down her spine as she took in his words with a shiver. She stifled a whimper in her chest as she stepped forward, taking a hold of the door handle; her fingers trembling as she wrapped them deftly around the cool shiny metal. Slowly but surely, she eased the handle down and opened the door very slowly, inch by inch.

Victor waited, watching as the door was prised open, sliver by painful sliver. He wasn't about to barge in like some maniac. He wanted to wait till the door was fully open, so he could walk in like the powerful and superior man he was, he found it so much more satisfying than skulking in like some greasy little pervert visiting a filthy clandestine prostitute.

When the door was finally wide enough for him to pass through, Louisa stood away to the right of him, out of his way and sheltering herself slightly behind the open door. Her palms felt sweaty and damp; her brow was beginning to bead with the first glistening droplets of sweat, her nerves manifesting themselves all over her body in a frenzied overdrive. Her stomach was on a spin cycle, her guts tumbling and turning with unchecked worry. She tried to stay her racing mind and calm herself, but she couldn't, not in his presence, the emotions that radiated from him were far too distracting for her to even begin to empathically blast herself. Besides, a man like Victor was far too deadly for her to ignore…even for a second or two.

Suddenly, she felt a rush of wind crawl over her body, then a sickening crack as she connected with hard wood. Victor had moved so fast that Louisa wasn't quite certain how she ended up with her back slammed firmly against her own front door; he was upon her before she even had a chance to react. The bones in her spine ached terribly and she groaned with the force of her unexpected impact against the painted wood. She yelped with a mixture of pain and shock, her body trying to combat the extreme pain that was invading her senses. Victor's face hovered only inches in front of her own, his ragged breaths washed over her in warm droves. He had her pinned to the door, her arms up on either side of her shoulders, his immense hands were crushing her delicate wrists as he held her tight. She squirmed uncomfortably, painfully beneath his grasp, her wrists aching terribly under the pressure of his ministrations, she could her bones groan.

"I need the glow…and I need it **now**, frail." His shoulder blades were raised and rounded in an overly aggressive display of superiority. His arms were locked out at the elbow, straight and frightening; his head dipped low into his chest and with heavy hooded eyes his gaze pierced her with his feral glare. His muscles moved and rolled beneath his taut skin, following their natural line in his developed forearms and biceps. He pulled his head up and back by just an inch, allowing his steely eyes to bore into her face. Victor held her there against the door, completely captive with his gaze. Louisa tried to look away, tried to focus on anything other than the terrible look that flashed in his eyes as he stared at her with a deadly and murderous intent. She saw something savage and wild dart about deep within his irises, like lethal grey meteor showers, his black emotions and thoughts exploded in a dizzying display of anger and need.

"Okay..okay…you can have it…but you have to let me…go Victor. Not…like this…" Louisa spluttered, her half formed words dripping from her mouth, coated in fear and repulsion. She didn't want to have to beg him, but she certainly wasn't above it where her very life was concerned.

Victor viewed her lithe body as he held her fast against the door. Her worthless frame was languishing against the wood, shrinking painfully under his shadow. She looked so mouth-wateringly tempting, pressed up against the front door all helpless and feeble; she looked like the perfect victim, he wouldn't want her any other way…maybe beneath him? She was just as he could wish her to be, insignificant in his presence, trembling and terrified of him, fearing his every move. He drunk in the pungent aroma of her fear in deep nosefuls of musky air; the fragrance giving him the most exquisite head rush, a potent cocktail of power, strength and sex. She made him feel like a true predator, like the worst fucking thing imaginable out there, he felt like he was the very pinnacle of the food chain.

He thought about taking her right there against the door. He could imagine channelling all his pent up rage and fury into that delicate little pink cleft between her thighs. He would force himself inside her with all the anger and strength he could summon from his body. And oh how she would scream; she would bleed to death under his savage attentions. He would drive himself into her so deep that she would feel him pounding away inside her stomach; her squishy vital organs would tear and split and rupture. He would hold her down so hard that every bone in her body would break, crack and splinter beneath him as he continued to fuck her raw. He would leave her on her apartment floor; broken, used and torn, lingering on the precipice of death but not quite falling. It could take her minutes to die, or maybe even hours if he was careful. He imagined himself then, sat on a chair before her, his unfeeling eyes drinking in the sight of her destroyed and ruined body dying out in a pool of her own stagnant blood. He would laugh scornfully at her, at her uselessness and at her stupid mortality, he would smirk at her pain and unending suffering. And in her dying moments she would reach for him, her broken hand would crawl agonizingly across the lino floor towards him, seeking a last desperate ounce of mercy. He would stand to his full height, glare down at her with all hell in his eyes, then he would kick her to death.

Victor shook his head violently to the left and snapped back from his murderous thoughts. He stepped back but an inch, allowing Louisa some space to breath and himself a moment to think. But his gaze never left her, his eyes pierced her own with a ferocity and cruelty she had seldom seen in a man like him. Then, Victor growled something low and inaudible in his chest, and slowly released his iron like grip on her wrists. Louisa a slight sigh escape her lips as she felt the pressure on her delicate bones ease, feeling the tingling sensation of life breathing back into the veins. Instinctively, her hands flew to her wrists to soothe and rub the tender area of skin that had just been abused so cruelly.

"You know that I have to do this Victor? I have to go in; it's the only way…" Her voice trailed off, terrified to speak further lest she incite his rage even more.

Eyeing her with terrifying intensity, Victor nodded and then fired off a warning shot.

"If you fuck with anything in there, I fuck with you. And this time, no amount of hospital visits will fix you, frail." Victor vowed with every wretched fibre of his being.

Louisa nodded and stepped forward with all the care in the world. She felt as though she were treading on a million glass eggshells that could break at any moment. She didn't want to do this, she would do anything to escape this moment. Caught between certain death if she refused to help him, and the tiniest chance to live if she agreed to help him. There was no certainty that once she came out of his mind that he wouldn't cut her down where she stood. Withdrawing from Victor's mind was always the most dangerous part of her arduous task, but it was a gamble she had to take. Louisa raised her trembling hands to the side of Victor's head and inhaled deeply. With shivering fingers she reached forward and took hold lightly of the side of his temples.

She closed her eyes and went to work.

* * * * * * * * *

_Victor stepped into the darkened bedroom as quietly as he could. He could hear the cold winter wind rattling the single pane of glass opposite the bed, a pathetic excuse for a window. The threadbare curtains were drawn and the darkness of the outside world was shut out from his home. Victor closed the door behind him as silently as possible. He didn't want to wake her, he mustn't wake her now; she needed rest, her body was failing her rapidly and she needed all the strength her ailing body could muster if she was to live through the night. _

_The stench of illness in the air was so thick, Victor though he might choke. He breathed it in deep, the foul smell filling his nose then travelling swiftly down into his lungs. To anybody else who cared to visit her, the bedroom would have smelt absolutely normal; maybe a little musty and stale, but nothing more. But to Victor, the smell of disease was as potent and as recognisable as burning wood, it consumed the entire room. The fragrance that ill health brought with it was a sickly sweet one; it hung in the nose and throat for days afterwards. The odour was like honey, mixed with black molasses and fresh tree sap; it polluted the very air you inhaled with its saccharine aroma. Victor blew out sharply but silently through his nose, trying to expel the stench from his senses, lest he be bogged down the syrupy stench himself._

_He crept quietly to the end of her bed, the floorboard beneath his feet groaned under his weight; he stood as still as a statue, just looking. He watched her through devastated eyes, utterly destroyed as he watched cruel Master Death drag his innocent mother down into the depths of his murky world. Even in her own home she was not safe from him, he called for her still, beckoning her to join him in his Underworld. The rural doctors could not help her any more; their foul medicines and unfeeling instruments only causing her further distress, so Victor had her returned to their little cabin high in the Canadian mountains where he could tend to her needs. He had done all he could for her, but it still was not enough, she was dying and there was nothing in this world that Victor could do to halt the process._

_His eyes ghosted over her ruined form once more, his eyes watering as he drank in the sight of her disease ravaged body. Her skin was almost translucent, it clung to her bones like parchment, lacking flesh beneath it to give any illusion of plumpness. Her brow was fevered; little droplets of fresh sweat dotted her forehead and trickled down her pale temples into the rank pillow beneath them. Her eyes were clenched shut, flickering occasionally as a dreamlike thought disturbed her sleep. Her body spasmed at regular intervals, a flick of the wrist, a twitch of the leg, convulsing subconsciously as the evil illness raged through her ruined body like wildfire._

_* *_

_Victor was sad for his mother. He wished this life could have been better for her. She had married too young, wed to a man so wholly unfit for her it was a sin. Victor imagined it would have been preferable for her to either abort him as he grew in her belly, or give birth to him as an unwed mother. The shame and indignation of the two combined would have been nothing compared to the pain and suffering of living with Victor's father. _

_His father, Thomas, was a large man, 6'4 tall and just as broad across. He was physically intimidating and it was a brave or foolish man that crossed him. He was also a very cruel man; a gambler, a womaniser and a foul drunk with an even fouler temper. He was quick with his fists and usually inclined to fight, whether he started it or not. Any money he earned as a lumberjack he spent on strong liquor and loose women, sparing the meagrest of amounts to feed and clothe his pathetic and pitiful family. He had many women outside his marriage, seeking succour and pleasure in the breasts of pretty ladies that took his fancy. He never even bother to try and hide his extra marital affairs, he flaunted them openly to whomever would listen to his lewd rantings. He had little or no respect for his long suffering wife, paying her no mind and using her as a figure of complete ridicule and sexual entertainment._

_Victor had seen his cruel father beat his beloved mother on many occasions; with his fists, the fire irons, chairs, plates or anything else that happened to be close to hand during the sustained and vicious attacks. He had seen him strike her over the smallest of things, things that to anyone else would be so insignificant they would go completely unnoticed. The wrong drink, incorrectly made bed, food that was too cool, un-ironed collar on his shirt, all earned his mother a severe beating, the attack she suffered never a comparison to her 'crime'._

_Victor recalled a time not so long ago when he was awoken by the sound of raised voices on the floor below. He crept quietly down the stairs and hid outside the kitchen, once again listening to his drunken father screaming at his quivering mother. His father was in a blind rage again, the red mist of rage covering his eyes and cloaking any semblance of reason her may have possessed; his mother was weeping uncontrollably as his vindictive words stung her deep. Victor peered round the crack of the slightly opened door and saw his mother on the floor clutching her stomach with one frail hand, the other tucked firmly between her legs. She was crying hysterically, her sobs coming in long, drawn out, painful wails as she grasped at her belly. His father was above her, over her, reigning blow after blow of his thick leather boot into her abdomen, cursing wildly as he swung his foot viciously into her tender belly. She was curled into a tiny ball, obviously making herself as small as she possibly could to protect herself against his blows. His father was bent over her now, his large fingers twisted into her yellow hair, forcing her look at him through bloodshot eyes. He was screaming into her tear stained face; he was screaming about how he didn't want another child, how the first one was so fucked up that the thought of having another made him want to end her worthless life, lest she give birth to another freak._

_Victor remembered his father wrenching the kitchen door back so hard he dislodged the brass handle. Thomas stormed past him down along hallway without even noticing his presence; he grabbed his tatty old brown coat and took off into the darkness of the night without a single word. After what seems an eternity of sitting with bated breath, Victor finally crept into the kitchen; he was crawling along the crockery littered floor on his hands and knees so he could be by his injured mother's broken side. She looked into his grey eyes with such pain and sorrow that tears began to flow openly down Victors face. He recalled how he stroked her back as tenderly as he could, how he tried to sooth her with his little words and hushed tones. He remembered how after the longest time, he eventually coaxed her shaking hand from between her legs and gasped in sheer horror as he saw her delicate fingers covered in her own sticky blood._

_It wasn't till a few weeks later that Victor learned his mother was three months pregnant with his baby brother or sister. _

_* *_

_Victor shook the dark memory from his weary head now, forgetting his worthless and wretched excuse of a father, instead trying to find comfort in the face of his beautiful sleeping mother. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her fragile chest beneath thick animal skin that blanketed her frail body. Her fingers twitched and curled into the flattened pillow her head lay on, groping in her sleep for something to cling to._

_Victor crept around the side of her bed silently and crouched down low beside her. He smiled at her as he watched her; she was so striking, even if she was ill, she was exquisite. She reminded him of an angel, her thin blonde haired haloed around her head as she dozed. Next to her bed was a large ceramic bowl full of cold water; Victor dipped his fingers in carefully and retrieved a soggy piece of hessian cloth. Wringing it out with his hands, he placed the cool damp material on his mother's forehead, hoping he might stem the rising heat that flashed through her._

_His small and meaningful gesture awoke his mother from her sickly slumber, her eyelids fluttering open gently like the wings of a newly hatched butterfly in the heat of a summers sunshine._

"_Thomas? Is…is that you?" His mother croaked with a dry chesty cough; her voice all but a whisper carried upon an exhalation of precious breath. Even in her last minutes of life she called for her absent and hideous husband. He evaded even in her final moments on this earth, preferring to drown himself in the deepest bottle of whiskey and in the company of cheap whores._

"_No mother, it's me…its Victor."_

_His mother turned her head towards him weakly and smiled deeply. With eyes of glass she gazed at her only son's face, his handsome features filling her with maternal pride. Her thinning hair was stuck to her face in long strands of sweat and clamminess. She tried to raise her hand; but her body, ravaged by disease and illness, failed her, her arm slumping back against the bed upon which she lay. Victor reached out carefully and took his mother's hand in his own, careful not to nick her with his developing claws. He raised her hand to his face slowly, placing her fragile fingers upon his warm cheek and holding her hand there till she realised what was happening. For the longest time, her frosty gaze pierced his own with an intensity he knew the dying not ought to possess. She coughed again, dry and painful, her chest heaving under the strain. She settled within a moment or two then spoke softly into the ether of the candle lit room._

"_Victor…my beautiful Victor." She whispered._

"_I'm here mother, I won't leave you." Victor whimpered; his resolve beginning to waver as his mother uttered his name from her dying lips._

_"You are everything to me; you have been my sole reason for continuing on in this life. If it hadn't had been for your birth, I would have exited this world a long time ago…" Her soft, tender smile remained on her pallid lips._

_Victor was battling with his emotions, they waged a terrible and fierce war inside him as he grasped his mother's hand. He wanted to be strong and keep his resolve so that his mother would cease to be sad; he needed to be strong for her now, his strength could not wane. But the other half of him was cracking and faltering as his emotions took hold of him. Tears were balancing on the inner rims of his eyes, threatening to betray him and trickle down his face in a flurry of emotion and sadness._

"_What would you have me do mother? Tell me…anything…I'll do anything!" He wailed as he threw himself to the floor, clutching her hand as if his very life depended on the strength of his grip._

"_I would have you endure, my darling child. I want you to live strong and to carry__ on in this life.__ Try to forget the horrors you have witnessed in your young days and fill all the rest of your time with as much happiness as you can find. Remember that I did all I could for you, I only ever tried to be the best mother I could be…" Her breath was failing her now; her coughs becoming increasingly ragged and strained. Her chest rose and fell painfully, her lungs filled with the catarrh that was killing her from the inside._

"_I will mother…I promise. I will live my life as you would have me live it." Victor cried openly now, his tears falling down his face and melting away into his shirt as they dripped from his jaw._

_She coughed one last time, spluttering in her death throes. Her emaciated frame quivered slightly a few times, stiffened for a second or two and then slumped back as the her miserable life eventually left her body. Her frosted eyes closed for the final time and her lips slackened as all her control vacated her. Victor felt her sickly hand go limp in his own, cooling quickly as her heart failed to beat; but still he held onto it for all his life was worth. Tears streamed down his face as he wept with abandon, his shoulders shook as he buried his face into the side of her bed._

_His beloved mother was dead and the pain of her passing was more than he could bear. _

_* * * * * * * * * * _

"**GET OUT OF THERE, EMPATH!"** Victor screamed at Louisa, the sheer rage of his voice filling her tiny apartment.

Louisa knew Victor's mind, she remembered it fully and with frightening clarity from the last time she helped him. It was bad back then, twisted and mangled with dreadful memories and shocking emotion and thought. But this time things were different; his mind had plummeted to new depths of depravity and despair. Although Louisa lived most of her life in a constant state of some kind of fear, it had been many years since she had been truly terrified. But what she saw and felt in that terrible moment as he stood before her, disturbed the quaking girl to her very core, she had never known _true_ terror until now.

Victor's mind was like a scene straight from the ninth ring of hell in Dante's Inferno. It felt like Louisa had been flung callously from the celestial heights of her own temperate mind into the raging, contorting pit of Victor's thoughts. The inner sanctum of his mind was akin to Lucifer, the greatest traitor in all existence. His three bottomless foul mouths chewing ferociously at his hideous memories that hung from its jaws like slabs of decaying flesh. Satan's immense red wings thrashed and flapped wildly, sending vile thoughts and horrifying memories blasting through his mind on a searing breeze of hatred and utter rage. It was a horrendously nightmarish scene where rhyme and reason held no court, unbridled anger and unadulterated rage were the only constants. It was a knotted and repellent landscape of terrifying emotions, heart wrenching memories and vague aspirations. The whole lot snarled together in one huge boiling pot of wrath and ire.

His thoughts were akin to a tangled pit of vindictive thorny vines, each one a memory or feeling that was vying savagely against the others to secure a place near the very forefront of his conscious mind. Each vine seemed to strangle the other that wriggled next to it, choking back an emotion or recollection as the stronger of the two took over. The whole cavern of his mind was of the deepest black and harshest red. It was as if someone had splashed buckets full blood onto the sides of his thoughts, it ran down the walls in long terrible lines and pooled murderously in the base of his skull.

Victor lunged instinctively at Louisa's throat, catching her off guard and wrapping his clawed right hand around the full circumference of her skinny neck. Louisa's hands flew to Victor's arm, grasping at it wildly as his grip tightened further and further. His grey eyes bore into her own with a murderous intensity, rage and anger seething in his very skin. She saw a terrifying flash of his absolute fury burst behind his eyes then fall into shadow, dangerous and fatal. His anger knew no bounds, his fury had no limits, he was going to kill her and let her die out beneath him and he would laugh at her mangled corpse as she heaved her last strangle gasp of air.

"Please Victor…let me…go…" Louisa managed to choke out. She could feel the pressure building in her face, behind her pale eyes; her skin starting to turn red under his brutal ministrations. She tried in vain to adjust her position beneath his grasp in a vain attempt to breathe easier, but to no avail.

"I warned you…I'm going to fuck you up so bad, you're gonna scream for me to end your miserable little life…" Victor's voice had never been so lethal, and Louisa truly feared for her life. He squeezed his fingers even harder now, directing every ounce of fury into the fist closed around her throat.

"I was…just…doing what you…asked…me to!" Louisa managed to splutter out; her throat constricted to such an extent that she was really struggling to breathe. He was crushing her wind pipe and it felt like her cervical vertebrae were being pulled into her oesophagus. After another few seconds the pain in her lungs was becoming all too real and she was truly struggling to breath. The shallow gasps of air that filled her body were not sustaining her and she was fighting a losing battle. A dry gasp escaped her throat, followed by a few arid wheezes. She was beginning to feel dizzy, white flashes and spots blurred her vision as she tried to focus her eyes on Victor's furious face.

"**Please**…" Louisa whispered with her last gasp of air. She was under no illusions that she was now pleading for her life in the grasp of an extremely deadly mutant.

With a flick of his great wrist, Victor sent Louisa crashing to the other side of her apartment. Her little body connected with the back wall of her living room with a deafening and terrifying crack, sending picture frames tumbling to the floor in a shower of glass shards and broken wood splinters. She cried out as her fragile body slumped to the floor in a tangle of trembling limbs and aching bones. Rolling from her side onto her back, Louisa's hands shot to her burning right side just beneath her breast; she had felt the pain of broken ribs before and the agony she was in now felt very much the same. She arched her back slightly as she writhed in pain, her head lifting from the floor then falling back once more. Her breath was catching in her throat in dry wordless sobs, she was gasping slowly for air. The pain was causing blinding white spots to dance behind her eyes; she wailed once more, a plea for mercy mixed with a declaration of stinging pain.

"**Please**…Victor…" She choked out in a feeble beg. Her voice was so faint that it almost escaped Victor keen hearing, almost but not quite.

With watery hooded eyes, she cowered slightly as Victor came towards her; warm tears streamed down the sides of her temples as she lay beneath his feet. He crouched to the floor, low and still, predator like. His shadow enveloped her as she lay before him, utterly helpless and defenceless in her pain. He grinned at her, flashing her a deadly glimmer of his sharp white fangs. The look in his eyes was shamelessly feral, the animal deep inside him taking hold of him once more, shaking the bars of its internal cage violently within. Without warning, he placed one of his massive hands in the centre of her sternum and pushed down hard, pinning her to the floor. Louisa cried out in agony, the feeling of something in her delicate body giving way causing her more pain than she knew she could handle. He held her there against the floor, like a gloating, sadistic hunter standing over his well earned prey. He had her where he wanted her and he was never letting go. He lowered his head and hung his mouth just inches from her bleeding ear. He growled deep in his chest, letting it vibrate its way through his body and pass into Louisa's. She felt the terrible tremble hit her and more tears slid from her eyes.

As he spoke, the toxic words dripped from his mouth like arsenic, poisoning the very air around them.

"We've tried it your way little girl…" He breathed deep in a deadly purr, "…now we try it _my way_."


	6. An Alien Feeling

_Right. First things first. The WARNINGS: This chapter contains **very mature adult content; including rape, violence against women and extreme sexual aggression. IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE AN EXTREMELY DARK VICTOR,**__**CLOSE THIS PAGE RIGHT NOW...I MEAN IT**. I can't stress to you the M Ratedness of this chapter, i can't warn you any more than that. Any flames due to content will be reported, as you have been warned sufficiently._

_Okay, on to the nice stuff. Thank you as always to DallasFan8304 & Fryefly for their ideas and help with this one, it has been much appreciated. As hard as it as been to write this chapter, i have really enjoyed doing it, it's been great fun to give my sadistic writing style free reign. _

_As always, i am concerned with the style, detail and content of this one...but had to post out of fear of me mythering it to bloody death. I am unsure whether or not i am doing a good enough job of this story, it seems pale in comparison to others available to read at the moment; i think it is me being overly critical as always, but ho hum...i will continue as long i feel i can._

_As always, R&R if you can be arsed._

_* * * * * *_

Chapter Six

* * * * * * * * * *

_Amazon touched the back of her hand lightly to her freshly split lip; she drew it back and regarded the blood there with the same type of disdain she usually saved for her enemies. Wiping her hand on the torn hem of her dress, she spat roughly on the floor; a great gob of blood and saliva thudding against the mud and began to disappear almost straight away. _

"_Had enough yet…little girl?" Victor purred viciously as he circled her widely. His forehead was damp with heavy beads of sweat, the exertion of his battle with his enemy leaving tell tale signs on his body. He had fought her hard and fast, she had matched him blow for blow; of course however, she had come off much worse. She lacked his regeneration factor and her black skin was mottled with many bleeding cuts, grazes and slices. It pleased him to know he had hurt her so badly, and that she had barely even nicked the surface of him. He had marked her, branded, beaten and bloodied, he loved it. But had Victor have been a regular man, or even a mutant without the ability to regenerate, the outcome of this feud would have been very different. _

"_Never." Amazon spat back with all the fury of hell in her voice. Her eyes glowing ruby red as fire surged behind them._

"_Very well…" He grinned savagely with a slight nod of his head in her direction._

_But before Victor even had the chance to move towards her, the Nubian woman lunged forward with a screaming war-cry that shattered the still of the expansive forest. With unimaginable speed, she buried her long ceremonial dagger hilt deep into his great chest. Victor roared in agony as he felt the blade pierce his skin and root itself into his soft flesh. He knew the wound would heal quickly, but the pain was never lessened or dulled for him, he felt it acutely. With both hands clasped firmly around the bottom of the blade, Amazon twisted it sharply to the left and dragged it all the way down to his navel in one fluid movement. Blood poured from the wound, gushing from Victor's body in warm, spurting torrents._

_With the nimblest of flicks, the dark skinned woman flipped herself over eight feet away from him and crouched into a low defensive potion, another dagger glistening and ready in her right hand. She knew that putting distance between Creed and herself was the wisest thing she could do right now. With liquid eyes she watched as Victor groaned when he withdrew the blade from his gut; the long open wound that travelled from chest to navel had already healed by the time the dagger hit the floor._

"_Never gutted me a cat before, guess there's a first for everything." Amazon snarled as she curled her lips up into a lethal snarl._

_Victor bared his fangs then roared so loud it filled the entire forest with a deep and terrifying guttural sound. He flung himself onto all fours and charged towards her with all the speed his body could summon. He dug his claws into the earth as he scrambled to afford himself more speed. His immense frame flew through the air, propelled by the strength in his arms and the incredible drive in his back legs. _

_He extended his arms out in front of him and caught the black woman ever so slightly off guard and around her waist, dragging her to the floor beneath him. She hit the mud hard, her head cracking off the floor with a bone shaking thump. Her muscled body bore the brunt of his weight as he landed heavy on top of her. The blade she was carrying was knocked from her grip and landed too far for her to be able to reach for it. Her eyes connected with Victors for less than a second before she decided to fight him with her very hands._

_Instinctively, Amazon pulled back her balled right hand and connected it firmly with Victor's left cheek; blood spewed from his mouth as the force of her punch registered in his brain and with his body. She was strong, easily stronger than most men he had fought and her punch had all the kick of goddamn mule behind it. The punch caught Victor unawares; too busy imagining the things he could do to her whilst she lay under him squirming. Snapping his head back like a rubber band, Victor glared down at her as she lay beneath him still; her body tense, her eyes glaring and her muscles coiled tight under her ebony skin. Rage boiled deep within Victor's chest as he felt his fury reach a fever pitch. He pulled his own colossal arm back as far as it would reach and focused all his energy into his huge fist as it flew through the air. _

_Amazon moved faster than she had ever moved before, her head ducking to the side just as Victor's fist connected with the mud with a sickening thud; it he hit her head, there would be little left of her face to identify. He cursed loudly as the skin covering his knuckled split on impact with the earth, then healed just as quickly. Flipping and contorting her body over in the strangest way, Victor found himself suddenly beneath her now; Amazon standing over him and reigning down upon his body a thousand punches and kicks that stung like deadly snakebites. She struck at his face with her balled hands repeatedly, feeling bone crunch under her knuckles and then reform again just as she connected a few seconds later. Her feet crashed into his sides painfully, finding his kidneys and other vital organs with practised precision. The black woman above him moved so quickly that Victor was struggling to secure a grip on any part of her lithe body in an attempt to halt her blows._

_After a few moments on the floor, the fight that seemed amusing at first began to tire him and his rage and irritability soared; he could end this whenever he wanted, take back control and hurt her so bad. Victor roared deeply and swung his left arm out to his side, his clawed hand trailing along the ground. Suddenly a deafening scream filled the air, a piercing ring of shrill sound reverberated through the trees. A savage grin splayed across Victors face as his hand had found its mark. _

_Amazon hit the floor hard, she doubled her body over and clutched at her ankle. Drawing her hand up to face level, she eyed the blood on her fingers and felt it begin to pump out of the wound she had sustained. She knew with out even looking at the wound that Victor had severed her Achilles tendons, an injury that had certainly disabled any thought she had of keeping upright; she would have to fight him on the ground. Pain coursed through her body, every nerve and fibre of her being screamed in agony, but she kept her tears in her mind; she would afford him no satisfaction in seeing her weeping beneath him, she knew what he liked._

_Victor flipped his frame over and crouched down low, just over arms length away from the prostrate Amazon. His feline eyes travelling the length of her body from chin to toe; she was exceptionally beautiful, even by Victor's standards. Her divine black skin glistened with a mixture of sweat and blood, her nails were caked heavily with dirt and her torn battle dress was riding high on her muscular thighs. Leaning forward quickly, he placed a great clawed hand on her right knee and pushed down hard; feeling her bones give way beneath his touch, hearing the cracking and fracturing as he laughed heartily. Amazon screamed in excruciating agony, her joint split into a hundred little pieces, the ball and socket shattered and bent into an irreparable angle._

_Victor felt another twinge of passion stirring in his loins, his lust intensifying as his liquid eyes poured over her vulnerably form. He felt exceptionally good, more powerful than he had felt in a very long time; the feeling of strength she was feeding him like this was addictive to him. He had enjoyed fighting her; it had aroused him to the point of pain. Every blow she dealt him made him want her just that little bit more, as if her anger and railing against him was feeding his body with the most powerful aphrodisiac. He felt an overwhelming surge within him as his serotonin levels soared, his body kicked up a gear and his cock twitched agonizingly. Far from feeling emasculated or threatened by her fight against him, it pushed him further into dominant alpha male position; knowing he had her fear and her very life in his hands was the ultimate arousal for him. _

"_That's a pretty nasty break you've gone and gotten yourself little girl…" Victor grinned._

"_I'll live." Amazon spat back, wincing ever so slightly at the unbelievable pain in her legs._

_Victor crept forward a few more inches, being mindful of Amazons hands. Without her knives she was an easier target to handle, but those big hands and nimble fingers of hers were still lethal, even minus the sharpened blades. She was a true wildcat, utterly unpredictable and a fighter till the end._

"_You know, I could take you see someone about your little injury, but if I did that…it'd cost ya…" He smiled deeply, his flat tongue playing over his gleaming white fangs._

"_I'd rather die than let you touch me...freak." Amazon spat hard at Victor, ensuring that a great gob of red blood and gooey spittle landed on his face._

_* *_

_By the time Amazon's head hit the floor just moments after her expulsion of bodily fluids, she was already dead. She hadn't even had time to properly enjoy her own death; Victor moved faster than he had ever moved before. He was upon her before she even had time to realise that he had moved towards her. Amazons honed body was now limp and lifeless against the muddy floor, her eyes already misting over as death took hold of her fully._

_Victor regarded the corpse at his feet. Two feelings fought for control within him, both vying for his full attention. A swell of animalistic pride feed his over inflated ego as he gloated maliciously over her body; his enemy, conquered and destroyed by his hands at laying at his feet was the most delicious sight in the world to him. It made him beam and feel unstoppable. But a twinge of something else pulled at his soul, something unusual and utterly unlike anything he could recall. After musing upon it for a moment, he labelled the feeling sadness, for want of a better word. He supposed it made him feel sad to see her dead on the cold floor; it almost pained him to know that he had killed her and that their erotic fight was over, he would never know her body alive. She was the strongest woman he had encountered, let alone to have the utter arousal of fighting against; he furrowed his deep brow as he wondered who he would battle against now? Who would provide him with something so utterly sexual yet unyieldingly violent? He wondered if he should have left her alive so that he might enjoy their fight again, replaying it over and over in the privacy of a bedroom, or a kitchen, or a basement. But with a snort he pushed the repulsive thought from his head, instead allowing her death to fill him with satisfaction and arrogance._

_But he had to concede, even in death she was beautiful to him; in the strangest animalistic sense of the word. Her cold skin sung to him, her lifeless lips pouted in an eternal kiss, her nipples hardened wonderfully as rigor mortis took told of her flesh. For a brief moment, Victor considered fucking her where her corpse lay. He would finally know what she felt like beneath him as he fucked her as roughly as he could before he spilled himself deep into her mangled corpse. He had no compunction against necrophilia, the blood and open chest wound was no deterrent to him; in polar opposite, he found the sight almost arousing and quite enticing. However, he much preferred the whimpers and cries of the living, the sound being so much sweeter than the silence of the dead; he left the cadaver unsoiled. _

_Standing and drawing himself up to his full height, Victor grinned wildly as he viewed the corpse at his feet. The great gaping hole in Amazon's chest was dripping with fresh blood and torn flesh; tendons and sinew dangled down and trailed across the earth. In his hand, Victor felt a final tremor pulse through the bloody heart he was holding; its life gave out beneath his fingers as his extended claws pierced the tender muscle. Raising the dead heart to his lips, he sunk his fangs deep into the tissue; blood and fluid seeping from the muscle and oozing down his face, dissolving into his thick facial hair. He ripped a chunk from the heart, closing his eyes briefly as he chewed long and hard. The bloody hunk of flesh rolled around his mouth and his senses were pricked as the blood trickled down his throat. In one large gulp, he swallowed the masticated meat, feeling it travel down his oesophagus, making him grin widely._

_He stepped over Amazon's lifeless corpse and dropped the bitten heart into the deep bloody cavity of her chest. He extended her the courtesy of a half nod in her direction, he wasn't sure why he did it, it somehow just felt right. Turning his back on her for the final time, Victor slunk off into the rising darkness of the night forest with murder on his mind._

_* * * * * * * * * *_

Victor didn't feel any pain from Louisa's pathetic excuse for a punch; he had had drinks with more fight in them. In reality, it was no worse than being struck by a freshly made snowball; her little balled fist just glancing off the left side of his face and disappearing somewhere behind the back of his head. Still, the punch caught him off guard, knocking the flashback from his head before he even had time to register it himself. She had taken him completely by surprise, a rare and very usual occurrence. His great hulking frame stumbled and he rocked back heavy on his heels, no more than an arms length away from her.

Realising she had stunned him momentarily, Louisa grabbed her chance and managed to scramble a few measly feet away from Victor before she felt his clawed hand grasp hold of her leg tightly. She cried out as she felt his talons extended and puncture the tender skin of her ankle. With one fluid movement and a sadistic smile, Victor dragged Louisa back towards him. She let slip a desperate whimper, her fingernails raking and scratching across the lino floor, trying to find purchase on anything she might be able to cling to. Her attempts were in vain as Victor flipped her over onto her back and slid her body beneath his; securing her under him by kneeling on her forearms, his body seated squarely on her thighs. Louisa yelped in pain as her fragile bones bore the immense weight of Victor's frame.

He placed his hands on either side of her head, with a slow and cold precision that turned Louisa's blood cold. His mouths hovered only centimetres from her ear, and his words poured into her with all the toxicity of polonium.

"I don't give a shit about your pain, frail, so don't make me feel it. You serve me and my needs, I don't give a _fuck_ about yours." Victor's mouth curled back into a snarl, his sharp fangs glimmering in the low evening light of the apartment. His words shot from his mouth, like shards of glass travelling at speed, they pierced Louisa and cut her deep.

Lifting the corner of his mouth into a deadly, wry smile, Victor considered the clothes she was wearing. His thoughts played in his eyes; recognising them, Louisa attempted to plead with him.

"Please…not like this…"

Before she could finish her sentence, the back of Victor's hand connected with her right cheek and sent her head flying to the left. She felt her own coppery blood fill her mouth and it made her gag and retch. An intense stinging sprung up in her bottom lip as she gingerly tongued the split he had just given her. Her cheek burned with a fiery intensity, the pain was so sharp and severe that she cried out loud, sending dark red blood splattering from her broken lips. Tears welled immediately in her eyes and her chin quivered in a desperate attempt to not cry openly before him.

"Shut the fuck up, frail. The only thing I want you begging for is your _life_." Victor growled dangerously; there were no veiled threats in his voice only latent promises.

Beneath him, her breaths came quickly now; hitching as dry sobs in her throat before morphing into wet whimpers accompanied by a trickle of salty tears. Victor let an animalistic grin splay across his face as the melodious sound of her quite cries rung in his ears. The satisfying sound made the confines of his pants seem that little bit tighter and increasingly more uncomfortable. Having him beneath her, bloodied and beaten, made his victory over her seem all the more sweet. With his hands now firmly planted on the floor on either side of her head, he extended his claws further, allowing Louisa to see them as they grew in length. Another choked whimper escaped her mouth and Victor savoured every delicious note of it; he made a mental note to take the time to try and backtrack, making her reproduce that exquisite sound for him later on.

Louisa's tears slid down her cheeks with abandon now; she was gasping in air in a vain attempt to calm herself. Victor could feel her pulse pounding beneath her skin as her boiling blood raced around her body. In the semi dark of the apartment, he lowered his head and ran his rough flat tongue over her delicate jaw line, capturing her tears with his mouth; even they belonged to him, he would not waste them. Her tears were salty but tasted almost as sweet as her blooded tasted. The very knowledge that he was the source of her crying filled him with a potent surge of power. It coursed through his veins thicker than his own blood, and with the strength of a thousand kills.

Victor moved with all the fluidity of a panther and all the precision of a killer; his body was built for death and suffering. Slowly, he raked his hands down from Louisa's tender neck to her soft skin of her flattened stomach, his extended talons shredding the material of her grey vest top in their wake. Four thin red lines ran from collarbone to navel on each side of her breasts as his fierce claws had penetrated more than just flimsy material; the lines dotted with bright red blood in places, but failing to bleed profusely. Louisa cried harder and her body shook lightly as she wept for him to stop. To Victor, the sounds of her sobbing only fuelled his need to inflict more pain upon her. He was a true sadist, he took his pleasure from the misery and suffering of other, but he didn't care, he liked it that way, he was a fucking animal.

With a grin and a careless flick of his wrist, the ruined fabric fell away from Louisa's body, leaving her upper torso at the mercy of his lewd and merciless gaze. Her nakedness was adding to her suffering, her bared skin, vulnerable to him, was providing as much suffering as anything else he might inflict upon her. Victor felt his groin ache and twitch once more as he drank in the sight of her bra-less body, Louisa could feel the pressure in his trousers strain ever so slightly against her body. His eyes lingered over her breasts and the marks he had left upon her skin; his eyes greedily following the contours her darkened areole, ghosting over her pale pink nipples as they rose and fell rapidly with her breathing. Her pale skin radiated in the low light of the apartment, it had an almost ethereal glow to it; the very thought repulsed Victor, he needed something much less whimsical and something altogether more real.

Quicker than Louisa could even realise, Victor bent his head and secured his mouth to the outer swell of her tender breast and sunk his teeth into the flesh they found there. Louisa screamed in agony as she felt his fangs embed themselves into her tender skin and flesh. Tears streamed from her eyes as the unimaginable pain in her chest intensified and burned ferociously. She arched her back clean off the floor as pain rushed through her with fiery intensity, before slamming herself back down again as she tried to wriggle free from his ministrations. Her arms thrashed beneath his knees but gained no freedom from his pressure; her legs kicked wildly but gave her no respite from his attack. In response to her thrashing, Victor clamped his mouth down even harder and extracted another painful and high pitched cry from her. Louisa felt sure that he would bite through her breast; he was going to rip a chunk of her flesh from the side of her modest breast and he would enjoy every moment of it.

Her blood filled his mouth and ignited something deep within him that even Victor could not control. It was as if a red mist had veiled his eyes and he viewed the world not in terms of colours, sounds and emotions, but in brutal actions, pain and sex. The animal inside him raged and railed against its cage, rattling and shaking him to the very core, driven by lust and a desire for blood. He wanted her to fight him; he needed her to resist him to the last, her battle against him made the glow so much more powerful for him. She angered him to his very core, her weakness, her frailty, her ridiculous mortality; he needed an Amazonian, his Amazon to fight him and challenge him to the last breath. He needed pain from the stabs of her blade and the sting of her kicks in his gut, but Louisa provided him with none of what he desired. His grey eyes turned black with fury as his needs went unfulfilled.

Louisa noticed the change in his outer demeanour and began to squirm beneath him. Futile as it was, she could not lay under him and simply submit to him. She whimpered and pleaded wordlessly as she wriggled and writhed under him. Her fear was escalating and in turn caused Victor's arousal to sky rocket; the scent of her panic was stifling and it filled Victor's head with a thousand and one images. Louisa twisted her body from left to right, ignoring the pain and bleeding in her breast and concentrating on her desire to be free from his weight. She thrust her hips upwards in a vain attempt to dislodge him from his seated position; a stupid attempt that only achieved the opposite and made Victor bump back. Her thrashing underneath him only increased his rage, his lust, his desire. He felt his entire body tremble as he shook from the forces within him that were desperately trying to rip him apart; the very fabric of his being was being torn.

_He needed the glow._

Pulling his balled fist back once more, Victor delivered a heavy punch to Louisa's abdomen, his hard knuckles thudding against her soft skin with a loud thump. The very air from Louisa's lungs was forced from her in a violent whoosh from her throat; even her sobs halted as she choked back the immense pain that ripped through her stomach. She felt her eyes bulge and water furiously as the pain rushed to her face and flushed it bright red. She couldn't even cry properly, the pain was so terrible, her eyes dilated as she watched him above her.

With lightening speed, Louisa suddenly found herself thrown and flipped violently over onto her aching stomach; her were breasts pressed painfully against the floor as Victor whipped her arms behind her back and secured them against her lumbar spine with one colossal hand. Her shoulders were bent back at an unnatural angle and the pressure on her joints was increasing, causing her to cry out in a plea for mercy. Her cries fell on deaf ears as out of her sight, Victor ripped the zip of his fly down on his black pants. He freed his straining erection and smiled as he smelt her fear kicked up a notch. He didn't bother to remove his trousers fully, only as far as he required; the rest of his clothes stayed on his body too, no need to take them off now. With furious hands, he tore at her tiny track shorts; claws extended, shredding the material in an instant, creating a shower of grey fabric to flutter to the floor.

"Please stop…" Louisa wept in an attempt to reason with him, trying to concentrate on his mind. "I'll do anything Victor…I'm begging you…**PLEASE**!"

"**DON'T**." Victor growled fiercely, slamming her throbbing cheek into the lino floor; his free hand clamped to the back of her head, his fingers twisted painfully into her fiery coloured hair. He could feel her inside his head; she was trying to pull on emotions that had long since been abandoned; she was trying to drag sympathy and mercy to the forefront of his thoughts, the very audacity of the act enraged him. "**Do that again and I'll gut you right here on this fucking floor bitch**."

"Please Victor….don't…I'll do anything…whatever you want…but please not this…" Louisa cried openly, her voice reduced to a whisper as her choked sobs took over. She retracted swiftly from his mind, her little experiment dredging up nothing but further rage and more anger. The pressure of Victor's hand on her head was so strong that it obliterated any hope she had of gaining any more access to his brain.

Victor began forcing his heavy weight between her naked legs, and Louisa began to cry and snivel beneath him. She could feel the coarse hairs of his thighs brush against her silken skin and she clamped her thighs shut as tightly as her muscles could; a last ditch attempt to halt his amorous advances. Snaking his hand from her hair, Victor prised her legs apart as roughly as he could, ensuring his claws left a few bleeding slices along the way. He was already fully erect, his need for a release was extremely painful now and very obvious, it throbbed within him. Cruelly, he let his manhood brush up against the outside of her dry feminine folds; he let her feel what was coming before it actually arrived. Fear and sheer terror rolled from her in a shockwave that astounded even Victor. The air in the apartment was now none existent, he was simply breathing in the heady fumes of her apprehension and panic.

"Please…**DON'T**…" Louisa exhaled in one final attempt to stop him.

With a savage thrust and a guttural growl, Victor plunged himself as deep into the trembling girl as he possibly could. He impaled her firmly to the floor and Louisa screamed from the bottom of her lungs as she felt her dry and unprepared sheath receive him fully. The pain between her thighs was unbearable for her; she felt her most intimate areas spasm in agony as Victor took her from behind and against her will. She felt her inner walls stretch further than they had ever had to before to, his size and girth causing her the feeling as if she were truly being ripped apart. The pain of his entry sent a jolt of unbelievable aching to the pit of her stomach, she yelped in anguish and agony.

Victor held himself inside her for just a moment before beginning ramming himself within her in even further. He liked to do this to his victims, let them feel him inside them; let them feel his torturous power over them. He loved asserting his dominance over their helpless and vulnerable forms. The feeling of supremacy and command he had was almost enough to send him plunging into the strongest orgasm ever known, but his iron will and fierce tenacity held him in check. His eyes trailed over the white expanse of skin on her back; he ruminated on how good she looked trapped and pinned underneath him; the thought aroused him further and he felt himself swell inside Louisa just that little bit more.

Victor rocked his hips against Louisa's bottom as he forced himself into her further, pushing her legs further apart so that they were splayed out painfully. He grunted loudly as he fucked her against the floor, his dominance over her as arousing as the act of rape itself. With a fierce thrust, he had her crying out once more, choking and begging him to stop as the agony was becoming too much for her to bear. He felt her inner muscles contract as she stupidly tried to push him out of her. He punished her actions with another savage thrust that jerked her forward a few inches along the floor. With his free hand, he sunk his claws deep into the soft flesh of her hips, ensuring she stayed in her place underneath him. Victor could smell her fear and anger mixed with her sheer pain and salty warm tears; the perfume created an addictive erotic haze that sent him tumbling into complete sexual oblivion. They were some of his favourite fragrances, and here they were, all rolled into one perfect combination that burned like sulphur in his nose.

Victor increased his speed steadily, forgetting that he was enjoying the slow and painful thrusts he had delivered to her before. He pounded against her with a ferocity that was bound to be bone shattering, for her. She unwillingly rended beneath him, he could feel everything inside her that was once delicate and slick, was now torn and abused instead; stretching to accommodate him and afford him a much deeper and greater penetration. He moaned loudly at the feeling of her tight, sheath clamped around his hard throbbing cock; the friction causing him more pleasure than he had felt in years, it was mind numbingly sweet. A delicate waft of her spilt vaginal blood floated past his nose and he inhaled deeply as the coppery scent drove the animal in him wild beyond belief. He could feel the fresh blood lubricating her core, allowing him to slide into her easier and more fluidly. Beneath him, Louisa was crying; he couldn't see her tears but he could smell them and could feel her body shuddering with escaping sobs. The thought of her weeping aroused him even more, and he picked up his speed accordingly, each one of his thrusts into her delivering an agonizing bolt of pain that rocked through Louisa's whole body. He had broken her, Louisa's little pleads and futile begging reduced to little more than wordless, open mouth gasps as he continued to rape her viciously. He smiled a predator's smile and continued on in his attack, abusing and fucking her body the best he could.

He was as savage as she remembered, his brutal assault of her body never once letting up or easing. His whole body was one huge, coiled muscle, putting power and force behind every single one of his agonising thrusts. His rough skin rubbed against the soft contrast of the girl beneath him, he enjoyed the feeling, allowing it to spur him on. He was ignorant to her cries and sobs now, allowing them to fuel his need and carnal desire; concentrating only on his own pleasure and his own release. Victor pulled on her arms further, forcing them back at an impossible angle that had Louisa begging him for mercy once more, her muscles constricting around his pistoning cock once more, tighter still. Her total submission to his will sent a swell of animalistic desire surging through him; he drilled into her even harder as Louisa pleaded with him to stop.

"Victor…stop…please…" She wept, summoning the strength to choke out a supplication for mercy. Her eyes were burning and stinging from the never ending tears that flowed down her face.

His name coming in heavy pleads from her lips was sending him over the edge. The fact that she was begging for him to stop was more than he could ever have desired. He realised in that terrible moment why he did what he did, why he enjoyed it and took his pleasure from it. Things were simpler for him, he took what he wanted and ended what he didn't; and right now he had exactly what he wanted right where he wanted her. He placed his hand onto her head and forced her bloody cheek to the floor, her left ear free for his venomous words. Victor lowered his head to her neck and gloated over her maliciously, his invasion of her body never ceasing or slowly for a moment.

"Listen to my words carefully, frail. You work for me and no body else." He ground out, re-enforcing the point with a brutal thrust that had Louisa whimpering even more. "If I ever catch you helping anyone else with that little talent of yours, I will rip your fucking heart out and stuff it down your goddamn throat, you hear?" He pushed himself into her body again, reasserting himself.

Louisa didn't answer quickly enough; Victor pummelled into her even harder than before, hearing something deep within her chest crack, followed by a painful scream from Louisa.

"**YES**…**YES**!" She howled, the excruciating pain in her chest pounding like a hammer inside her.

Victor knew he couldn't last much longer. The heady cocktail of this feeling of power, her total submission to him and her delicious fear were all too much for him to handle at once. He drove himself into her throbbing, fleshy quim repeatedly and as brutally as he could. He could feel the familiar dull ache deepening in his balls as his impending orgasm began to take hold of him. His entire body was staring to ache from the violent thrusts he was forcing between Louisa's thighs. From his dry lips escaped an evident groan of pleasure, a moan of delicious enjoyment, a supplication of sheer delectation. White spots began to dance wildly behind his eyes, blinding dots of light that flashed and disappeared before he had time to appreciate them fully.

With the rising crescendo of pleasure, he found his mind was finally quietening; all the rage, blood, hatred and fury was being reducing back to nothing more than a hushed whisper on a breeze of warm air. His brain was beginning to calm and he was being taken over by an indescribable feeling of peace and tranquillity. His bloodlust was seeping away, like water and tears trickling down a drainpipe never to be seen again. He could feel all his deepest, darkest memories and flashbacks being pushed back into the cavernous recesses of his mind; his very soul was quietening and relaxing, the ache in his bones abandoning him. He knew she was working, Louisa was doing her job. He just had to take it from her in violent and brutal thrusts. He could feel his whole body begin to tingle and vibrate; the electricity of her power was under his very skin. He crackled and fizzed violently as he let her outstanding ability consume him in powerful driven waves. She was so powerful, so much stronger than Birdie could ever have wished to be, he couldn't believe his fortune at finding her. As he felt himself shudder and prickle, all around him felt into total silence. The only thing he could hear was his own heart beating and the terrible rhythm of him pounding himself into Louisa's ruined body with as much speed as he could muster. His skin slapping against hers was a constant in the back of his mind, lulling him and urging him closer and closer to this release. He could no longer hear her cries; her begging has faded to an inaudible drone in the background, her whimpers could no longer be detected.

Suddenly, a frighteningly powerful shockwave ripped through his body and sent him tumbling over the edge. A flurry of sounds flooded his ears and he could hear everything with a terrifying clarity that even he had not experienced before. His own guttural roar mingled with the foray of noise as he emptied himself into Louisa, driving and spilling his seed as deep into her core as he could. His orgasm mixed wildly with the glow, creating forces inside him that seemed determined to rip him apart. He felt all the tremors and tingles pulsate from him and out of the end of his cock, the fallout from the glow ebbing away gradually with his fading orgasm.

Victors arms gave out as the afterglow rippled through him exquisitely, feeding every fibre of his being with peace and calm. He collapsed on top of Louisa causing her to yelp as she took his weight. His metal dog-tags felt cool against the fevered skin of her battered back, they clinked lightly as he shifted on top of her. Victor withdrew himself from her after a few moments of being still and letting the afterglow claim him; Louisa gasping as he slid from her and then felt him rest, flaccid and sticky against her inner thigh. He breathed deep and exhaled heavy, his breath washing over Louisa's tear stained face.

"I'm sorry." The man above her whispered into her ear.

* * * * * * *

Louisa lay on her back, still naked on the floor of her tiny living room, staring at the ceiling through painful eyes. Her clothes, or the shreds of them lay all around her, she had nothing to protect her modesty with now. It wasn't long since Victor had left the apartment, she knew he'd be back within the next few hours.

Massaging her bruised abdomen lightly, Louisa could still feel Victor's seed deep within her; his liquid still felt warm and strangely alien inside her, she wasn't sure if she liked the sensation or not. Either way, it didn't bother her that he had come inside her; if that's what he needed then she knew she had to allow it. She was just thankful she had dropped by the doctors and picked up her repeat prescription of her birth control pills not more than three days ago. Her insides hurt and ached just as terribly as the outside of her body, if not even more; she wasn't sure if she would walk properly for a week, or in the very least, without yowling with every other step. He had been so much worse this time, so much more brutal than she thought he would be. Sure, last time he was horrific and her injuries were appalling, but that was _nothing _compared to this time. He had fucked her up good, and injured her deeper than she thought he could. He'd left it too long, he should have come to her sooner; if he had visited her much later, she wouldn't have survived his assault upon her, he wouldn't have been able to hold himself back. She shuddered at the very thought, the gamble of her very life only just paying off, the house that was Victor nearly calling time on her cards. Louisa cast her mind back to when Victor contacted her; if she knew then what she knew now, she'd have jumped the country.

Her entire fragile frame hurt, the amount of pain she was in was insurmountable. It felt as if she had been hit by an out of control freight train; her skin was split, her muscles torn and her blood spilt. The deep bite on her breast was stinging like hell, the cool apartment air tormenting and mythering the wound that was now crusted with dark cry blood. The thin red slices all the way down her chest were spotted with blood and they itched and hurt terribly. The multitude of injuries she had sustained could not be fully counted, there were too many to list. She winced at the thought of the amount of damage he had done to her delicate and fleshy innards, pushing the thought from her head in ignorance.

She was just glad she had the worst of it behind her now.

She hated having to act this out for him, hated his proclivities and sexual preferences. She wondered how he managed to think it was all real and how he didn't see right through her; but then again, when Victor reached that point in his drive, nothing could ever persuade or convince him otherwise. She especially detested acting out a rape scene, she found it increasingly difficult and distasteful to do; it repulsed her as she lay there beneath him, faking her screaming and crying just for his sick and twisted pleasure. She thought of all the poor rape victims she had counselled over the years and how she felt as if she were betraying their very trust in her; she vowed she would never do it again.

But she knew she had to do it and that she would more than likely have to again in the future, it was simply vital to Victor's glow. She knew once he had released the worst of his fury and rage onto her; as long as she survived the attack, that he would be so much more pliable, so much easier to control and handle. She knew that he would be a lot more accepting of her powers and would be much more inclined to allow her access into his head. It was pivotal that he was fully receptive to her powers, and by allowing him to 'rape' her as he just had, he spent his rage on her and opened up his mind to all her amazing ability had to offer him.

Now her work would be easier and less complicated; she could fully concentrate on helping him properly without his rage surfacing every other moment.

Taking a deep inhalation of breath and a pained groan, Louisa decided to haul her battered body off the floor. She could barely move, everything in her hurt more than it ever had before. Pulling herself up on the couch at a painfully slow speed into a standing position, Louisa breathed deeply as she felt life return to her beaten body.

It was time to pay another visit to ER; she could invent a story for her injuries in the taxi on the way there.


	7. Hippocratic Oath

_Hi guys. Okay firstly let me apologise for the late update. _

_I must confess i came so bloody close to abandoning this story you wouldn't believe, and i am still very unsure about it all. This chapter has caused me two weeks of total stress at my writers block, so i decided to offer you all what i have as a filler chapter. I hate that it is short, but if i didn't post this then i wouldn't have posted anything at all. I am hoping that the next chapter is slightly more substantial! I am praying you enjoy it, i rather like it despite it's short comings in the length department..._

_Secondly (and as always) this chapter would **not **have been possible without the tenacious help of DallasFan8304 and the gentle prodding and kind words of Fyrefly...ladies...you are my angels, this one's for you xx_

_As always click that lil' ol' button and make me happy!_

_* * * * * * * * *_

Chapter Seven

Louisa could hear the concerned doctors talking in hushed tones and quiet whispers just outside the cubicle where she lay. The curtains surrounding her offered some privacy from the all seeing eyes of others, but sadly offered her no protection against outside sounds and noise. Their voices sounded like a low hum over all the other drone of the bustling, bleeding ER, but were still perfectly audible even though they did their best to hide their concerns.

"_Her injuries aren't consistent with a hit and run, Walker and you know it." _The young doctor paced the floor of the corridor, the expression on his face frustrated and slightly frantic, almost to the point of agitation.

"_I know, but what can we do? We can only go on what she tells us, we can't force it outta her."_ Doctor Walker replied. He admired his young colleague's eagerness for detective work and desire to do the 'right thing', but he had been in this job too long to know that such attentions rarely yielded the desired outcome.

"_For Christ's sake, the woman has a two inch deep bite mark on her breast and eight huge claw marks down to her abdomen…you're telling me that those came from being hit by a goddamn car?!" _Doctor Moore pointed to the cubicle that Louisa was waiting in.

"_There's nothing we can do Moore, she says she's been hit by a car and the driver fled, we treat it as a hit and run. If she's covering for some abusive asshole of a boyfriend then that's her bad luck…we just treat it as she tells it and do the best we can."_

"_But the…"_

"_Drop it Moore. Just go in there and give her the pain meds and tell her she can leave when she's ready." _Doctor Walker called as he turned on his heel and headed off down the corridor to the next patient, his white coat fluttering behind him in a hurry as he patted his inner coat pocket with a cheerful smile.

Louisa cast her saddened gaze to the white painted wall as she tried to shut out the negative thoughts that were creeping into her mind as she lay waiting for the doctor to discharge her. She was in agony, insumountable amounts of pain wracked her entire body from crown to toe. She was very uncomfortable as she lay, gleaning neither rest nor relief from any position she shuffled her way into on the bed. She considered trying to wriggle to comfort once more when suddenly the flowery cubicle curtain swept back and in buzzed the young and intense Doctor Moore, holding multiple brown tubes of pills in his skinny hand. He stopped by the side of the bed, looking despondent and annoyed as hell, his annoyance rolling from in him in strong waves. Had Louisa felt better she might have attempted to calm him a little, but her current state lent her no strength for tampering with minds and emotions. Doctor Moore quickly flipped through the wad of notes he was carrying in his other hand; with a brief glance, he scanned the dog eared papers, then cast his eyes to Louisa's face with a disapproving look.

"Okay Miss Miller, the stitches I've put in the wound in your breast are dissolvable ones and should disappear in a few weeks, everyone's body react differently to them, but if they're still there in five weeks, come see us and we'll take them out for you."

He shuffled the notes some more before continuing.

"We're sending you home with three types of meds. The Thyamoxicillin is an anti-biotic and will help to keep your wounds free from infection; these need to be taken four times a day at meal times for two weeks, you need to finish the full course. The Co-phamadol is an analgesic and can be taken whenever the pain is bothering you, but for the first four days we recommend you take this three times a day so it stockpiles in your system. And the Pruodium is a mild sedative that you can use to help you sleep at night; we've only given you a few of these as they're not designed to be used long term, but for the first couple of days as you might find sleeping a bit uncomfortable. Do you have any questions?"

"Yeah, do any of the meds affect birth control pills?" Louisa asked meekly.

"Which one are you on?"

"Delanezette."

"No, none them affect the efficiency of the pill you're taking, you can carry on as normal." Doctor Moore said in a highly disapproving tone.

"Anyway, everything else here looks good Miss Miller, you're good to go as soon as you feel ready."

Louisa swung her legs over the side of the bed and began to stand slowly, her aching muscles screamed uncooperation at her but she forced them to move anyway. Blood rushed thick and fast to her head, making her feel dizzy and airy; she steadied herself lest the young doctor deem her unfit to be released. Collecting her handbag from the chair next to where she previously lay, she shot a crooked half smile at the doctor beside her and she made her way to leave. Doctor Moore fidgeted uncomfortably and intensely behind her as Louisa shuffled her way out of the curtained cubicle. He had to ask her one last question one final time; it was bugging the hell out of him and he knew he ought not to ask, but he couldn't help himself.

"Miss Miller, I have to ask you…" He paused and drew breath lightly, "...were you really the victim of a hit and run? Or is there something, _someone else_ that caused your injuries?"

Louisa stopped still and turned ever so slightly to glance over her shoulder; Doctor Moore stood statuesque with his arms folded across his chest, on his face a knowing look played across his unconventionally handsome features. She could almost feel the concern in his grave voice, it was endearing really, it warmed her to think that someone actually cared, maybe not directly about her, but at least about her situation. She thought it was a great shame that she had to meet Doctor Moore like this; she actually liked him and might have liked to have gotten to know him better had the circumstances been different and more _accommodating_.

"I've told you everything doctor, and that's just as it happened. There really is nothing more I can tell you." Louisa sighed, trying to sound as if she were exasperated by his probing questions. Doctor Moore shook his head and bowed it slightly; he reluctantly handed the bottle of pills to Louisa and stepped back from the bed, allowing her to stand freely. He knew she was lying and it angered him deeply to know that she was holding back the truth, but just as the more senior Doctor Walker had explained...there really was _nothing_ he could do about it.

"Okay Miss Miller, have it your way. Good luck and I hope you feel better soon." His tone was a little bitter but certainly not intentionally hurtful; Louisa sensed his intentions were sincere and only served to mirror his underlying concern. A ghostly but palpable smile formed on her sore and split lips in spite of herself and her pain; she was appreciative of his kindness and kept his name and face to memory, saving it so she might remember it fondly in her more lonely and bleak times.

A brief silence filled empty space between them. Dr. Moore's eyes held hers, long enough so she caught the longing, yearning look that lingered between them. The attraction had been immediate on his part, and had developed rapidly in Louisa. A quiet and barely audible sigh escaped her lips; she would have liked to have taken their brief, if somewhat overly professional encounter beyond the situation they were in. Had she possessed a semi normal life that she was able to maintain without Victor, she might have known him romantically, maybe even intimately. She might have known the tender touch of loving, kind hands roaming over her body, one that she knew took the skill of a practiced and thoughtful lover...

She turned from him then, breaking their quiet reverie and whatever unspoken thoughts that lingered between them, her thoughts dancing swiftly to the carnage that would ensue if Victor ever caught wind of her little 'fancy'. No amount of antibiotics or painkillers would repair the handsome Doctor Moore if Victor had his way.

"I'm very grateful for your help Doctor Moore. You're very...caring." She held back from saying anything further, lest she ruin the moment.

Dr. Moore watched her parting footsteps fall silently onto the lino floor, he studied her pained movements with some kind of reverence until she disappeared from his sight. He was sad to see her leave. Namely because he knew that no car could have caused her injuries, he desperately wanted to know what had really happened and nail the bastard that had caused her so much pain. But also because he felt a desire to know her, and might have liked to take her out for a drink sometime.

Maybe more.

Shame really.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Louisa shifted subconsciously as she felt something rough and harsh brush across the stinging wound on her breast; she wriggled her achingly painful body slightly as she tried to move herself away from the cause of the suffering, her legs beginning to flail as she became increasingly uncomfortable.

"Hold still goddamn it." His voice hissed fatally in the darkness of the stifling bedroom. He was desperately trying to resist the temptation to lunge his large hand towards her brittle neck and hold her far too firmly in place, crushing her windpipe.

"Stupid fuckin frail." His voice spat malignantly, as he shook terrible thoughts that were stained with her blood from his mind. He placed a monstrous clawed hand on her delicate upper arm and pinned her with a surprising light touch to the mattress, her fragility and brittleness stirring something deep within him. He marveled gloatingly at how wondrous her thin, glass like bones felt beneath his touch; his god complex swelled immensely inside him and railed violently against the peaceful afterglow he continued to bask in.

The afterglow was winning…_for now_.

Victor really didn't want to help Louisa, he had absolutely no desire to tend to her wounds like some kind of fucked up fiend nurse from some hellish nightmare; playing nice was never what Victor was about, it wasn't something that ever even crossed his complex, twisted mind. His entire world, his whole life and very existence was summed up with causing multiple wounds, unimaginable pain, profuse suffering and severe hurt; it was certainly not his usual way to actively work against such things. Doing anything that one could class as compassionate, caring or benevolent made Victor's blood boil in all the wrong ways and a dangerous anger dance and rage behind his eyes of stone; he detested all forms of human weakness and he viewed the afore mentioned states as just that…weaknesses; sickening faults and failings that were confined to humans and lesser mutants.

_Jimmy..._

Victor shook his head violently to the left and suddenly felt the overwhelming need to purge himself of the sentimental tripe surrounding his actions; he felt like he needed to kill someone, like he needed to wash his hands in the blood of another and feel their flesh and brains splatter against his harsh face. This thought alone pleased him greatly and he smiled as his eyes ghosted across Louisa's outline through the flimsy top sheet cloaking her form; his yearning for violence simmering just below his skin.

But this time, it was in Victor's best interest to keep Louisa in some semblance to a state of living; he couldn't let her go just yet, he needed her too badly, although it enraged him to admit it even to himself. He needed to keep her brittle body free from infection and any other nasty unseen force that might steal her energy and strength. He needed her mind to be as alert and as healthy as it could possibly be in order that she might serve his needs to the very best of her wondrous ability. His reasons for tending to her, although easily misconstrued as good willed and even Samaritan like, were far from being near any such description. His actions were very selfish and centered solely around fulfilling his own needs and deadly desires. Victor was certianly no fool, he knew that Louisa was good, very good infact, possibly the best and definately the easiest to control; her power was extremely strong and she controlled it better and with more force than any other empath he had ever encountered. Finding another mutant of her magnitude and ability would be damn near impossible; it would take him literally years to find anyone that came close to a comparrison with Louisa...it was time that he just did not possess. In between basking in the glorious afterglow and the semi-peaceful haze that accompanied it, Victor knew he would have to try his best and play nicely with Louisa till she was fully healed. He would have to check on her regularly and employ all his skills and know how in order to keep her body in it's current state of recovery. He would have to tend to her the only ways he knew how, and if that failed him, he would seek out the products required to keep her on track and alive.

He had thought about leaving her in the hospital, where she could be tended to be an array of skilled doctors and flappable nurses with their wondrous drugs and fantastic instruments; but he knew their attention to detail, no matter how great, could never be as meticulous as his was. Of course the trained hospital staff could easily identify infection in a patient, but it was usually only after the infliction had surpassed an acceptable level, by which time damage was almost certainly being done to the body. Victor could smell infection from a mile away, hell he could damn well _sense_ it; there was no body else on this earth that could detect it as quickly and accurately as he could. He ensured in his own rather underhanded way, that Louisa was discharged and declared fit to go home, where he could monitor her condition much more effectively. He hadn't found it very hard to bribe one of the older doctors into fudging some of her medical notes and charts so that they looked a bit more favorable; humans could be bought so cheaply it was almost laughable, they cast aside their better judgment and instincts and replaced it with cold hard dollar bills. Even the medically untrained such as Victor would have seen that Louisa was in absolutely no fit state to leave the hospital and should have stayed there for at least three to four days for further treatment and observation. But as it was, his little plan had fallen beautifully into place and Louisa now lay in his more than capable and lethal hands.

As he bent his head to her breast once more, Victor ruminated on the delicious question; had the doctor known what type of man he was effectively 'selling' Louisa to, would he have laid aside his Hippocratic oath oh so easily and let her go?

Louisa felt the stitches that bound the skin of the wound, pull and sting as the saliva from a flattened tongue swept over her injury and then seep into the warm and tingling wound.

"_Victor_…" Louisa rasped sleepily, her voice all but a wisp of words that disappeared into the black of the dark.

"Get some sleep, frail…hell knows you're gonna need it." He growled, seething and hovering somewhere above her. His eyes glowed dark grey as a slither of amber street-light illuminated that darkness of her stifling bedroom; they were filled with an arrogant indifference to her pain and discomfort, he truly cared not.

Louisa's eyes fluttered open for a second or two before closing again, her lashes batting as lightly as butterfly wings against her rounded cheeks. The furrow in her brow was relaxing and easing away as she drifted deeper into her medically induced slumber once again.

_Medication is a __wonder,_ was Louisa's last coherent thought before she fell into the glorious arms of sleep.


End file.
